


Cubs and Gemstones

by ddagent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (slash enemies), Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Arranged Marriage, CEO, Childhood Friends, Co-workers, Coaches, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Football | Soccer, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Jealousy, Mistaken Identity, Phone Sex, Pining, Pregnancy, Remix, Rivalry, Road Trips, Silence of the Lambs AU, The Night's Watch (ASoIaF), Theatre Critic, Tumblr Prompt, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-13 22:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 150
Words: 113,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: A collection of various paragraph prompts, originally posted on tumblr, featuring the relationship between Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. Stories include modern AUs, canon divergences, princess!brienne, maid-of-honour!jaime, and childhood frenemies.





	1. Verse Index

As 'Cubs and Gemstones' grows, more and more 'verses are being created. Here is a full list of all the prompt 'verses posted within this collection and their corresponding chapter numbers; the list will be updated as more prompts are added. Happy reading! 

* * *

**Head, Hand, Heart**

Brienne, not Robert, ascends to the Iron Throne, where she chooses Ser Jaime as her Hand. The main story can be read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429621/chapters/48466292).

  * [25](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49202186) "Storm"
  * [31](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49308092#workskin) "Take the Lead"
  * [35](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49486292#workskin) "Babes"
  * [77](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51253336#workskin) "Kingslayer" - Brienne finds Ser Jaime Lannister in the throne room, alt HHH Ch.1.
  * [79](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51331843#workskin) "Heir" - Queen Brienne deals with a request from her father-in-law.
  * [137](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60846286) "Proposition" - Connington's son offers his hand to Princess Cat.

**Princess Brienne**

Selwyn, not Robert, ascends to the Iron Throne. Thus his daughter becomes a Princess, and the Kingslayer her not-so-trusted guard. 

  * [02](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48883079) "Tourney" - Princess Brienne secretly enters a tourney.
  * [06](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48884576#workskin) "Suitor" - Princess Brienne sneaks out to see Renly.
  * [09](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48884738#workskin) "Sword" 
  * [12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48884873#workskin) "Spar"
  * [21](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48924206#workskin) "Viper"

**Maid of Honour Jaime**

Jaime helps Brienne plan her wedding to Hyle Hunt, only to be faced with his feelings for his best friend. 

  * [05](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48884543) "Dress Shopping" - Brienne and Jaime go wedding dress shopping.
  * [10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48884795#workskin) "Lingerie"

**Childhood Frenemies**

Selwyn and Tywin are close friends. Their children and heirs, however, are not. 

  * [15](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48887528#workskin) "Nameday"
  * [20](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/48893828#workskin) "Sixteen"

**Modern Arranged Marriage**

Jaime and Brienne are forced into an engagement, only to meet and fall for the other beforehand. 

  * [26](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49202234#workskin) "Intended"
  * [30](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49307900#workskin) "Taken"
  * [37](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49486502#workskin) "Fiance"

**Billboard**

Jaime becomes enamoured with the singular model displayed on a billboard outside his office window. 

  * [27](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49307438#workskin) "Billboard"
  * [36](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49486430#workskin) "Spread"
  * [57](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50721629#workskin) "Wallet" - Brienne finds a picture in a stranger's wallet.

**Matchmaker Tywin**

Tywin sets up his son with museum curator Brienne Tarth, although neither are aware they are being set up. 

  * [34](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/49486142#workskin) "Set Up"
  * [84](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51623149#workskin) "It's Only Money" - Tywin continues to set up his son and Doctor Tarth.

**Phone Sex Operator**

Jaime runs a phone sex line; Brienne is his favourite caller.

  * [40](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50689517#workskin) "0800 6969" - Jaime runs a phone sex line.
  * [50](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691188#workskin) "Second Line" - Brienne calls again.
  * [85](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51627289#workskin) "Outside Line" - Brienne calls phone sex operator Jaime from a hotel room.

**Modern Queen Brienne**

Brienne ascends the throne, Ser Jaime is her Hand...but the year is 907 AC. 

  * [47](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691026#workskin) "Public Image"
  * [48](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691077#workskin) "Guest Spot" - Hand Jaime goes on television. 
  * [144](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60847528) "Sparkline" - Queen Brienne and Hand Jaime look over social media.

**Lord Commander Jaime**

Rather than become Queen Brienne's Hand, Jaime is her Lord Commander...and later, her lover. 

  * [49](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691158#workskin) "Winterfell" - Queen Brienne and Lord Commander Jaime are caught by Bran Stark. 
  * [51](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691224#workskin) "Father" - Princess Joanna has some questions for Lord Commander Jaime.
  * [52](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691293#workskin) "Queen of Love and Beauty" - Lord Commander Jaime wins a tournament. 
  * [54](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50691395#workskin) "Birth" - Queen Brienne gives birth to their first child, Catelyn.
  * [60](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50775271#workskin) "Sand Dunes" - Lord Commander Jaime takes his children on a coastal walk. 
  * [63](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50785459#workskin) "Consummation" - Lord Commander Jaime the morning after Brienne's wedding.
  * [75](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51222409#workskin) "First Steps" - Lord Commander Jaime witnesses his daughter's first steps.
  * [78](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51308863#workskin) "Kick" - Lord Commander Jaime feels his baby kick for the first time.

**Dear You**

A love letter to Renly is accidentally given to Jaime, who is over the moon to discover Brienne reciprocates his feelings. 

  * [66](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51009988#workskin) "Dear You" - Brienne's love letter to Renly ends up with Jaime instead.
  * [102](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/53353057#workskin) "Dear Jaime" - Brienne tries to let classmate Jaime down easy. 

**Gods**

Jaime is the Maiden, and Brienne is the Warrior.

  * [67](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51100048#workskin) "Seven Heavens" - The God of Love and the Goddess of War meet in the mortal realm.
  * [69](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51183367#workskin) "Sunbeam" - The God of Love has fallen for one of his fellow deities.

**New Girl**

After Jaime's girlfriend cheats on him, he moves in with Margaery, Sansa, and the aloof Brienne Tarth.

  * [68 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51164458#workskin) "New Boy" - Jaime gets to know his mysterious new roommate, Brienne.
  * [70](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51184831#workskin) "House Rules" - Jaime and his new roommate continue to butt heads.

**Chef Jaime**

Retired chef Jaime Lannister clashes with food critic Brienne Tarth.

  * [80](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51463465#workskin) "Review" - Chef Jaime meets critic Brienne.
  * [82](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/51493417#workskin) "Second Course" - Chef Jaime runs into critic Brienne once again.

**The Bear and the Poorly Worded Maiden**

History doctoral students Bee and Jay host a podcast reading and analysing bad historical fiction centred around their ancestors, Goldenhand the Just and the Blue Knight.

  * Originally posted here, the podcast verse now has [its own collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163248/chapters/52907506).
  * You can read the originals here: [91](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/52823551#workskin), [92](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/52863634#workskin), [95](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/52876012#workskin), [96](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/52897306#workskin), [98](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/52903369#workskin)

**Time Travel**

Ser Jaime Lannister wakes up in 907 AC: husband and father Jaime finds himself in the future just after his historical counterpart returns to King's Landing. 

  * [99](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/53112703#workskin) "907 AC" - Ser Jaime Lannister wakes up 600 years in the future.
  * [101](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/53307664#workskin) "301 AC" - Modern Jaime tries to persuade Tyrion he's from the future.

**Mr and Mrs Knight**

Jaime and Brienne are in an arranged marriage, but are also secret rivals on the tourney field.

  * [56](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50715392) "Mystery Knight" - They're married and secret rivals.
  * [107](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/53466106) "Victory" - Brienne has a charged moment with her husband post melee.

**Coach Jaime**

After the death of Catelyn Stark, Brienne adopts her daughters, Sansa and Arya, and finds herself with a crush on Arya's football coach, Jaime.

  * [42](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/50689652) "Coach Jaime" - Brienne meets Arya's football coach.
  * [109](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/53846995) "Impossible Crushes" - Brienne tries, and fails, to avoid Coach Jaime.

**Telepathic Brienne**

Lawyer Brienne Tarth finds herself able to hear other people’s thoughts – including the smitten thoughts of her boss, Jaime Lannister. 

  * [111](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/54386665) "Noise" - Brienne Tarth can hear the thoughts of those around her.
  * [112](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/54498031#workskin) "Telepathy" - Brienne continues to struggle with her new 'gift'.
  * [117](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/54805825) "Contradictions" - Despite her telepathy, Brienne struggles to understand Jaime Lannister.
  * [119](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55038811) "Negative Thoughts" - Brienne meets with Ramsay Bolton, and Jaime shares a secret. 
  * [136](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60846181) "Revelation" - Brienne tells Jaime she can read minds.
  * [139](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60846535) "Too Loud" - Brienne deals with telling Jaime she can read minds. 
  * [143](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60847204) "Silence" - Brienne can no longer hear Jaime's thoughts.

**Sugar Daddy Jaime**

Student Brienne needs financial support. VP Jaime needs companionship after the loss of his hand. An arrangement is made. 

  * [123](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55220761) "Sugar" - Brienne meets potential sugar daddy, Jaime Lannister.
  * [125](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55551412) "Takeout" - Jaime treats sugar baby Brienne to dinner.
  * [138](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60846445) "The Bus" - Sugar baby Brienne tries to get home without Jaime's assistance.
  * [141](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60846766) "Shopping" - Sugar daddy Jaime proposes a shopping trip.

**Modern Lion Pride**

University professor Jaime, museum curator Brienne, and their three children Catelyn, Brynden, and Joanna. 

  * [126](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55582867#workskin) "Parent's Evening" - Jaime and Brienne see their cubs' teachers.
  * [127](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55619263) "Bike Ride" - Jaime and Brienne take their children out on a Sunday morning.
  * [128](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55664728) "Childcare Emergency" - Professor Jaime brings his three cubs to class.
  * [149](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/62886256) "Are We There Yet?" - Jaime and Brienne go on a road trip with their children.

The Modern Lion Pride now has it's own series. You can read their further adventures [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672513). 

**Teen Wife**

Teenagers Jaime and Brienne discovered they have been promised to each other since birth. 

  * [120](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/55146757) "Wifey" - Teenager Jaime Lannister finds out he's already promised to one of his classmates.
  * [142](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590028/chapters/60847126) "Long Engagement" - Teens Jaime and Brienne struggle with their arranged marriage.


	2. Verse Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, as suggested, I've decided to post all my paragraph prompts up here! 
> 
> "Hello I don't know if this has been done but... Princess!Brienne sneaking into a tourney as a mystery knight? *offers a handful of sad crumbled cookies and puppy eyes*" (nire-the-mithridatist) 
> 
> (From this AU: Selwyn, not Robert, becomes King. Brienne is suddenly a princess, and Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard her reluctant bodyguard. They hate each other…until they don’t.)

Brienne plodded across the muddy field in her borrowed armour; an unfamiliar blade on her hip. She’d considered taking her own blade, the sword she had purchased on the streets of King’s Landing many moons before, but knew Ser Jaime would recognise it in an instant. He’d clashed with it often enough; had felt the point against his throat or the soft of his belly. So Brienne had left it behind, and came onto the tourney field as the blue knight. 

Other knights gathered; swinging swords and morning stars and shields painted with sigils Brienne recognised from her lessons with Septa Roelle. Amongst them stood Ser Jaime Lannister; the golden lion a familiar face in Ashemark. He nodded at her as she approached, her visor down. 

“Have we met before?” Ser Jaime asked, green eyes taking in her ill-fitting armour and solid blue shield. “I know most who fight in these parts.”

“_No,” _Brienne said, adopting a gruff tone to hide her clipped vowels. “_Nah, _I usually fight in the Stormlands.” 

Ser Jaime grinned. “A Stormlands lad. The home of our good king.” 

At that point, a passing merchant spat at Ser Jaime’s feet. Even in the Westerlands, the shadow of Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister looming over it, people still knew him as the _Kingslayer. _Ser Jaime took it with the good grace she knew so well, and simply shrugged. A few more challengers joined the field for the melee; several eyeing a member of the Kingsguard and the mystery knight he stood beside. 

One of them seemed to recognise Ser Jaime. The man approached them, clapping Jaime upon the shoulder. “My Lord. It’s good to see you. I thought you would be in King’s Landing guarding our good King.” 

“Princess Brienne is travelling through the kingdoms, visiting all the noble houses. A coming of age procession.” _Of sorts. S_he’d come of age two years before but they were at war then, and nothing more than a Lord’s daughter besides. “I am tasked with her protection, but not today.”

No, two of the Hand’s personal guards had been tasked to protect her whilst Ser Jaime fought in the tourney. Tywin Lannister’s money could buy many things, but not competency. Brienne only had to claim her monthly blood had arrived before the men closed the door and stood at the far end of the hall. It hadn’t taken much for Brienne to sneak out and take her place at the tourney. 

“I hear she’s quite something, the Princess. As large as an aurochs, but not quite as pretty.”

The man laughed, as did two close enough to hear. Ser Jaime did not. He grabbed the man by the scruff of his collar and pulled him close. “You insult our Princess again, and I will cut out your tongue. _Clear.” _

Ser Jaime pushed him into the dirt before storming away. Brienne watched him; stomach churning. No one had ever defended her before. _No one. _


	3. "Annoyance" - Jaime is jealous (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ModernAU Frenemies - Jaime gets jealous (anonymous)

With Podrick nowhere to be found, Jaime Lannister decided to go downstairs and get his _own _cup of coffee. He decided to be _nice _and get one for his co-counsel as well, and one of those chocolate chip muffins whose crumbs always littered her desk. He got himself a lemon curd tart as well, and shoved five gold dragons in the tip jar before he headed back to the office. Podrick was still noticeable only by his absence. Brienne Tarth was noticeable by the scene she was making of herself in her office. 

Jaime slowly approached, rapping twice on her closed door before entering without invitation. Her head jerked up at his presence, softening for a single moment. She mouthed, _not now _and went back to pacing and arm waving and forming her hands into curled fists. 

A figure joined him in the doorway. “Sorry, Mister Lannister, I had to get some copies done for Ms Tarth.”

“No matter, Podrick.” Pod was the assistant he and Brienne shared at Stark, Tully, & Reed. Nine times out of ten they were working the same case, so they didn’t have to act like two divorcees squabbling over custody. Brienne’s current case, however, was that one in ten. “Who’s she on the phone to?” 

“Baelish. He’s not happy with her progress, or the stance she took in the recent depositions.” 

Jaime frowned. Brienne was one of the best; handpicked by Catelyn Tully herself. If Baelish had a problem, it certainly couldn’t be with Tarth’s work performance. “How long has she been on the phone?” 

“Well over an hour.” 

Just then, Brienne ended her call. She clutched the phone, knuckles turning white, as it seemed she was fighting every urge not to throw the damn thing at the wall. She huffed out a breath, threw her chin down to her collarbone, and shuffled behind her desk. Brienne was there for all of two seconds before she jumped up and turned her attentions to Jaime and Podrick. 

“I have never, _ever _in my life been so..._insulted.” _Jaime opened his mouth to argue. He’d insulted her countless times when they were first paired together. “He criticises my work ethic, my knowledge, my strategy...he made some _baseless _accusations about my loyalty within this firm. He..._ugh_!”

Brienne began to pace once more; her shoulders tense and arms taut. Jaime remembered seeing her like this before: constantly angry, yelling and pacing. Pushing herself hard to _prove _herself to the inferior man that had challenged her. Only last time, it was Jaime himself who had been responsible. 

“You know, Petyr Baelish is really the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.” 

“Surely you must have met more arrogant men?” Jaime asked, unsure why his stomach was churning. 

Brienne shook her head. “No, no one’s got under my skin like this before. He just..._infuriates _me.” She eventually sat down at her desk, barely even acknowledging him and how much his golden ego and silver tongue had previously pissed her off_. “_Can we do this later, Jaime? I need to reschedule some depositions.” 

Jaime nodded, his head bobbing as if on a string. “Sure, sure.” 

He left the coffee and muffin with Podrick, and retreated to his office next door. Since when had be been _Jaime_? Since when had they just been ordinary _colleagues? _He didn’t like this. Not one bit. He was Jaime _Lannister. _If anyone was going to steal Brienne’s attention and make her huff and go all red, it was going to be _him. _


	4. "The Ex" - Selwyn thinks Jaime is Brienne's ex (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "there are so many things I'd love to read from you where do I even start? but okay okay how about more of the Ex?" (remuslovestonks)
> 
> “The Ex” Jaime is punched by Selwyn Tarth for breaking his daughter’s heart. The only problem is, Jaime and Brienne have never dated.

Her father had just finished installing the carbon monoxide detector when there were two knocks at the door. Brienne left him to finish whilst she went to answer it: a neighbour, perhaps, wanting a cup of sugar. It certainly wouldn’t be Jaime Lannister, the occupant of the Penthouse, who had been a regular on her doorstep delivering mislaid letter after letter. Brienne doubted she’d see him ever again after her father had laid him sprawled across her welcome mat. 

Yet, when she opened the door, Jaime Lannister was there. No letters, no parcels, but a bouquet of sunflowers. He stared with soft eyes, and offered her the carefully wrapped bundle in blue tissue paper. “Sunflowers, because of the suns on your old house sigil. And the blue for your eyes. I _miss _you, Brienne. Please take me back.” 

“_Who is it, Brienne?”_

“Just a neighbour!” Brienne called back; slipping through the gap in the door so she could block her father’s view of Jaime. She turned on him as soon as they were out of sight; voice low. “What do you think you’re _doing, _Mister Lannister?” 

“Winning you back,” he said, as if it were that simple. 

Brienne took in a deep breath, ignoring the very beautiful bouquet of flowers Jaime Lannister offered, and the nagging thought that _no one _other than Ron Connington had ever given her flowers, and he’d crushed those under his boots. She fumbled for words before bluntly saying, “You’re not my boyfriend.” 

“_Well, _not right now.” Jaime’s eyes glinted. “I meant what I said the other day, Brienne. I like you, and I’d like to ask you out on a date. If I have to pretend to be your ex-boyfriend winning you back for you to take me seriously, then so be it.” 


	5. "Dress Shopping" - Brienne and her MOH Jaime go dress shopping [Modern AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yay for paragraph prompts! Loved the fake ex one, any chance of more Maid of Honour Jaime? Perhaps wedding dress shopping?" (anonymous)

The sales assistant brought over another tray with two flutes of champagne, and Jaime thanked her warmly as he reached for his. He took a sip, and addressed Brienne as she tried on dress number five. “You know, you don’t _have _to wear a dress.” 

“You couldn’t have had this epiphany last night?” 

Jaime chuckled. “No, _no, _I mean it. There’s nothing that says you _have _to wear a dress. You could wear a skirt, or a jumpsuit. A three-piece suit!” His mouth went dry at the thought of Brienne in a blue suit to match her eyes; a gold tie knotted around his hand as he pulled her close. Jaime took a sip of champagne. Since announcing her engagement, his thoughts had strayed into a new area regarding his best friend. More than once he’d woken in the middle of the night dreaming of her hands on him. The more time they spent together planning her wedding, the worst it got. 

From inside the fitting room, Brienne carried on as if she hadn’t noticed her friend trailing off. “I know that, Jaime. I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of dresses, you know, I can just never find one that suits me. And, for once in my life, I’d like to be a little traditional at my wedding. It’s silly, but I want the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with to see me walking down that aisle and lose all sense of thought, of speech. I want that moment.” 

The curtain pulled away, revealing dress number five. The skirt was long; made of flowing white material that fell over Brienne’s long legs. The bodice was intricate lace in swirls and sunbursts; two straps curling over Brienne’s upper arms. The dress showed off her collarbones; the thick cords in her throat as she swallowed. Frowning, Brienne turned to the full-length mirror and looked at herself in the dress. 

“Guess it’s time for dress number six.” 

Jaime said nothing. 


	6. "Suitor" - Princess Brienne sneaks out to see Renly (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "princess brienne" (anonymous)
> 
> (From this AU: Selwyn, not Robert, becomes King. Brienne is suddenly a princess, and Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard her reluctant bodyguard. They hate each other…until they don’t.)

After the Evenstar had become King of the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime had hoped to be dismissed and returned to Casterly Rock. Especially after it was made clear that King Selwyn would not take another wife (to the chagrin of Jaime’s father and sister), and that his daughter Brienne would be his sole heir. As a Kingsguard, Jaime had broken his sacred vow. The penance for such was being the personal guard to Princess Brienne. A Princess who, at seventeen years, enjoyed sword-fighting and climbing and doing her best to avoid the _Kingslayer _that was her babysitter. 

At dinner, Jaime had suspected that Princess Brienne would sneak out to meet her new suitor, Renly Baratheon. He was charming, and pretty, and his sweet words had rendered the usually sullen princess under a spell. Jaime waited until she was out of her chambers before his hand wrapped around her arm. 

“Going somewhere?”

He did not expect the dagger pressed at the hollow of his throat. When she realised who it was, the pressure eased but was not removed. “Leave me be, Kingslayer.”

“Can’t. _Shan’t.” _Jaime disarmed her easily enough; the dagger clattering across the stone floor. “Your safety is my responsibility. I can’t, in all good conscience, allow Renly Baratheon to take your maidenhood in the dead of night.” 

“I just want to _talk _to him. Without the Septas. Without _you.”_

It was at that point that Princess Brienne’s knee connected with his crotch. Pain blinded him, and for a tall creature she managed to disappear quite easily. Knowing Ser Barristan and the King would have his head if _anything _happened to the Princess, Jaime tried to think where they would meet. _The veranda. Brienne loves the ocean. _He darted through shortcuts and hidden passages to make it to the gardens before Princess Brienne met Lord Renly. 

He needn’t have bothered. At the entrance to the garden, Brienne stood, unmoving. She was watching two figures embrace in the darkness: one was clearly Lord Renly; the other an envoy from Dorne. A _male _envoy. 

Princess Brienne turned away from the pair; shoulders hunched as she headed in his direction. Jaime didn’t know what to say. She’d seemed so excited at the prospect of becoming Renly’s wife. “Princess—”

“—_don’t. _Whatever you wish to say, Kingslayer, you can keep it to yourself. And I’m not a _Princess. _Princesses are beautiful, and wanted. The minstrels sing songs of them; knights wear favours and joust in their colours. I am an ugly daughter of an island lord elevated _far _beyond her station and sometimes I wish my father would marry your _damned _sister and give him a son so I could crawl back to Tarth where I belong.” 

As instructed, Jaime kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t offer a word of comfort; as if she would accept such things from him. He just listened, outside her door, as Brienne of Tarth cried herself to sleep. 


	7. "King" - Jaime is crowned King (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Does this ask qualify: AU where, after killing Aerys, Jaime claims the iron throne for himself" (bjlennister)

As soon as they reached his chambers, Jaime grasped for the nearest decanter of wine. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; his hands shaking as he poured into a goblet. It was only Brienne’s hands that steadied him; her soft blue eyes bringing him back to solid ground. Her fingertips curled over the inside of his wrist. 

She drew in a deep breath. “Your pulse is racing.” 

“It’s been a very exciting day. _Wife.” _

Brienne flushed; her cheeks a similar hue to the Lannister colours in her wedding gown. “It seems so strange. A few weeks ago I was sleeping on a bedroll and cleaning mud and blood from my boots. Now I’m…your wife.” 

“You forget you’re Queen as well.” Jaime took a sip from his goblet, before pouring another for his wife. _Wife. _She wrapped both hands around it. “You’re right; it is strange. I wake up most nights expecting my bed to be on fire; the whole city burning. Now I’m…it doesn’t seem real.” 

But it was very real. Like the thrust of his sword into Aerys Targaryen’s back. Like Ned Stark and Brienne of Tarth standing, judging, as he sat upon a throne he, at the time, had meant to hold for another. Her arms around him; the flutter of her eyelashes on his cheek as they collapsed against each other. Warm touches and secret embraces as men older than them decided the fate of the realm. 

He and Brienne had been playing cards – shoulders touching and feet entwined – when his father had strode into his chambers in the White Sword Tower and declared that Jaime would be King. And, to appease both the rebels and those still loyal to the Targaryen line, Brienne of Tarth would be his Queen. 

His Queen. His wife. Jaime took the goblet from her hand and stepped forward; two hands sliding up to cup her face. In the weeks since Aerys’ death, he’d found comfort and a kindred spirit in Brienne. Since his father had announced their betrothal, the thought of how much else they could share had overwhelmed him. 

“Can I kiss you, Brienne?” he asked, wetting his top lip as he stared at her mouth. 

She nodded; hands already carding through his hair. “Yes. _Husband.”_


	8. "Girl's Night" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love your writing so much! Is there any chance of getting something inspired by the gifset of Gwen in a robe you just uploaded?" (anonymous)

Brienne tried _really _hard not to stare. But whether it was the third glass of champagne Margaery had thrust into her hands, or the temperature in her flat thanks to the busted heating, Brienne was openly ogling Jaime Lannister and his very, _very _lovely thighs. 

He was currently in her kitchenette, being a good temporary roommate, and preparing the snacks for the cocktail and spa portion of ‘girls night’. Other men (re. Brienne’s ex boyfriend Hyle) had taken great strides to avoid the monthly occasion in Brienne’s flat. Jaime, however, was embracing every part of it: the cream Sansa had smeared underneath his eyes to rejuvenate the skin; the short robe he wore that showed off his chest hair and toned thighs. 

He’d even called his brother and his bartender friend for tips on how to make cocktails. 

“So, ladies,” Jaime started as he passed the kitchen island and walked the few paces to the sofa. He deposited the tray on the coffee table and took the remaining seat: right beside Brienne. “What’s next on the agenda?” 

“Gossip, mainly. Who’s dating who, who’s _sleeping _with who,” Margaery explained. “You go first, Jaime. Who are _you _sleeping with?” 

“Brienne, of course,” Jaime said, drawing a few startled gasps from the room. He swung an arm over the span of her shoulders and pressed her into his side. “Her sofa’s too small for either of us to sleep on, so we’re doing the _mature _thing and sharing her bed.” 

Brienne squirmed, feeling several sets of eyes upon her. Jaime’s hand refused to shift from her shoulder, and his robe had ridden up to reveal several more inches of muscular thigh. Brienne drained her glass of champagne. “His apartment should be ready next week. I don’t understand why you couldn’t stay in a hotel.” 

“Forgive me for wanting to stay with a friend during these _trying _times.” 

“You’re redecorating.” 

“Well, the decorator’s been trying my patience. Here, let me top that off for you.” Jaime reached for the bottle of champagne and filled Brienne’s glass. He was still far too close, and Brienne felt the warmth from her cheeks as she took a drink. “You’re next, Brienne. Are you…_seeing _anyone?” 

There was something odd in Jaime’s tone; something she couldn’t identify. Brienne just watched the bubbles in her glass as she said, “No. No one.”


	9. "Sword" - Princess!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do I just write what I want or can I say: is there a point in Princess!Brienne when Jaime sees her with a sword for the first time?" (agirlnamedkeith)

Every eye was upon the pair of them as they traversed the streets of King’s Landing. The people had glimpsed their princess before; tales of her stature and appearance had no doubt been repeated in brothels and taverns alike. They watched her as she examined the fruits on the stalls; as she smiled at fishermen who recognised her from Tarth. The people watched him, too. More than once he saw them whisper _Kingslayer _as he passed. At least Princess Brienne had the stomach to call him that to his face. 

“Princess, this really _isn’t _safe for you. Whatever you’re after, I’m sure I can have it sent to your rooms. Those fruits; some jewels. Perhaps some fabric you can embroider.” 

Princess Brienne stopped, and threw a wilting stare over her shoulder. “Thank you, _Ser, _but what I’m after can’t be delivered by a handmaiden.” 

It was at that point that the Princess gasped, grinned, and took off in the direction of a side street. Jaime threw himself after her, fearing his head if some of the ruffians in this city realised a second quicker than he who this woman was. When they returned to the Red Keep, Jaime would have to have words with Ser Barristan. He understood keeping watch over the…_singular _Princess was his punishment, but she didn’t have to make his job quite _this _hard. 

Jaime cursed when he realised Brienne was walking along the street of steel; armourers and forges on both sides spitting out helmets and swords for hedge knights and far away tournaments. “Princess—”

“Not now.” 

Brienne had stopped at one blacksmith, admiring his skill as he forged a fresh blade. Her gaze swept the armoury, lingering on a lengthy blade with blue stones in the hilt. She caught the blacksmith’s gaze, and gestured her head to the sword. “May I?”

“Of course, Princess.”

The man handed Brienne the sword. She took it in hand, testing the weight. Jaime sighed. The Princess would come back with more cuts and scars than the one just above her lip if he didn’t stop this now. “Princess, may I advise caution? These are very sharp. I wouldn’t want you to poke one of your pretty eyes out.” 

“Of course, Ser. I’ll be careful.” 

Jaime huffed, and was fully prepared to snatch the sword from the Princess’ grasp. Then she started moving. Brienne twirled the blade; listening to the _swoosh _as it glided through the air. Her form was good, _very good, _as she sparred with an imaginary opponent. Her arm moved like water; the sword an extension of herself. It came to a stop a hairs breadth from Ser Jaime’s own mouth; the steel almost close enough to kiss. 

Behind the blade, Princess Brienne smirked. _Singular indeed. _


	10. "Lingerie" - MOH!Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "helllloooo,,,, spare Maid Of Honour Jaime lowkey falling in love w his best friend Briene, ma'am??? spare Maid Of Honour, Jaime?? sending lots of chocolate and reese peanutbuttercups (unless ur allergic to them) as bribe" (eldritch-beau)

“Right, I think that’s it. Shall we head home?” 

Jaime’s head shot up. “No!” Beside him, Brienne raised a questioning eyebrow. “I _mean, _I need new boxers.”

“Can’t you get them another time?” 

Thankfully, the seventh floor hosted the underwear section of Tarly’s Department Store. Jaime pointed in that very direction. “Come on, Brienne, they’re _right _there. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“_Fine. _But I’ll have to pass on dinner; Hyle and I are getting takeout.” 

_How romantic, _Jaime wanted to say, but resisted the urge to call out Brienne’s fiancee and his utter disregard for his future bride and their forthcoming wedding. Jaime could count on one hand everything Hyle had contributed to the ceremony. Thankfully, Brienne’s Man of Honour had stepped up. They spent most weekends together, now, but it was not enough. Jaime couldn’t get enough of Brienne. 

So, as they approached the underwear section, Jaime was determined to get boxers, briefs, socks, vests, perhaps even suspenders if it meant spending a little more time with Brienne. Jaime took his time flicking through the sales rack, enjoying Brienne’s warm gaze upon him. Even now, after a lengthy day of picking items for her registry, she was happy to indulge him. Brienne gave too much of herself. Someone like Hyle would take and take until there was nothing left. 

Brushing away his frustration, Jaime plucked a pair of burgundy boxers with gold spots from the rack and pressed them to his crotch. He wiggled his hips. “What do you think?”

Brienne laughed, burying her pink cheeks into the collar of her coat. “Very on brand.” 

“Good.” Jaime tossed them in her basket. He continued to sift through the merchandise, pointedly avoiding looking at the women’s lingerie that was only a few paces away. “Is there anything you need?” He just couldn’t help himself. “Something for the honeymoon, perhaps?” 

“_No.” _Brienne wrapped her arms around her torso, also avoiding looking at the racks of bras and panties; suspenders and negligees. “Are you nearly done?”

He smirked. “_No.”_

Jaime picked out several pairs of boxers, a variety of socks, looked at monogrammed handkerchiefs, and even asked the sales clerk about their loyalty program. It was only when Jaime required his postcode, and turned to Brienne to ask, that he realised she was no longer behind him. He found her, unexpectedly, in the lingerie department. Brienne stood in front of a negligee in a deep red; gold embroidery decorating the cups and the material that would brush her upper thigh. 

He didn’t know what it meant that Brienne had chosen _this _negligee to appreciate. There was a gorgeous set in red and blue just beside it; even a bra in brown and white (the rather terrible colours of House Hunt, which rhymes with…). “Those colours would look good on you,” Jaime found himself saying.

“They’re your colours.” 

“Yes. Yes they are.”

Just then, his phone vibrated. A text from Tyrion. He took himself off into a corner to reply to the flurry of messages, before returning to Brienne’s side. When they left Tarly’s Department Store, Brienne had an extra bag. 


	11. "Shoot" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "prompt: brienne is a photographer and jaime a famous model" (anonymous)

Brienne was checking that everything was set up when she felt a presence lingering behind her. She didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was; the dulcet tones were evidence enough. “Well, hello again.” 

“Mister Lannister.”

“So _formal.” _He came into view; green eyes shuttering from her hair down to her shoes. “You look better. No twigs; less mud.” 

“Shall we get on with this?” 

“So _impatient.” _Jaime stood close; too close. His hands toyed with the belt of his robe. “Are you _that _desperate for me to take my clothes off, Blue Eyes?” 

“I just want to get this over with.” 

“Fine by me.” 

Jaime Lannister, _Ice and Fire _magazine’s sexiest man seven years in a row and well-known male model, strode onto the dais that had been set up in the middle of the studio. This would be the second time she’d worked with him; the first on an ancient Westeros themed photoshoot with Jaime on a horse and sparring with a sword. It had been a notorious disaster, despite how good the photos had come out: the horse had refused to behave, her assistant had fallen down a hill, and she and Jaime had found themselves soaking wet in a lake. 

But work was work, and Brienne had agreed to do this underwear shoot for Margaery’s new line. “Can the talent lose the robe, please?” 

“So _professional.” _

Jaime Lannister did indeed lose the robe; the towel material falling off his shoulders and pooling at his feet. An assistant darted onto the dais to collect it, and Jaime settled himself back against the bed at centre stage. One hand lingered upon his stomach, just above the trail of hair leading to the prominent bulge in the black briefs. Brienne swallowed, hiding herself behind her camera. 

“Maybe not.” He laughed, green eyes glinting in the artificial light, as Brienne snapped her first picture.


	12. "Spar" - Princess!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Princess!Brienne - Verse / Awkward Bonner!Jaime?" (anonymous)

They made an unlikely pair: the Kingslayer and the Princess. No one would spar with her for fear of maiming King Selwyn’s only living heir. Few would spar with him; the vows he had broken making him unworthy in the eyes of most. But he was her protector, and she was _slowly _warming to him. Which was how Ser Jaime and Brienne found themselves on a secret spot hidden away from prying eyes where they could spar until the night drew in. 

“You know, you’re surprisingly not that bad,” Jaime said. 

He darted to the left, just in time for Brienne’s blade to shoot past his ear. She smirked. “Funny, I was about to say the same of you.”

They each took two steps back, circling each other like animals. “You’re not as good as you think you are, Princess.” 

“As long as I’m better than you think I am, I’ll have you yielding soon enough.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Jaime lunged forward; Brienne’s blade coming up to meet his. They exchanged blow after blow; swords meeting in a furious exchange. He’d never admit it, but the Princess was _exceptional. _He considered himself a prodigy with a sword, but Brienne might even eclipse him. She was dedicated, fighting to prove she was better, stronger, quicker. Only rarely did she move to show off. It was in these brief moments that Jaime had her. 

Suddenly the Princess was knocked to the ground; Jaime on top of her. His knife pressed to the collar of her jerkin rather than skin. “Yield, Princess.”

“_Never.” _

Brienne squirmed underneath him, trying to get free of the hold he had over her. Her laboured breathing, the rapid movement of her hips, awakened something in Jaime. He swallowed as he felt himself harden; his cock pressed against the juncture between Brienne’s thighs. She was still wriggling: cheeks pink and eyes ablaze. Close enough for Jaime to feel her breath on his face. 

She took his distraction as opportunity, and flipped them so he was on his back. Her hips met his; her hand yanking a handful of long hair and pulling him back to expose his throat. “Yield?” 

“_Yes.” _Get off me. Come closer. “I yield.”


	13. "Escape" - Arranged Marriage AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please post some paras from the AU where Robb makes JB marry 🙂" (anonymous)
> 
> From this AU: After finding out about his sister’s marriage to Tyrion, Robb Stark arranges for Jaime to marry his mother’s sworn sword, Brienne (who has just been recaptured trying to escort him back to KL).

Jaime had decided he _liked _being a prisoner of the Tullys; certainly more than he’d enjoyed being one of the Starks. At Riverrun he had his own room; could sleep lying down. He could walk in the grounds, and although he couldn’t wield, hold, or even _look _at a sword, he could still watch Brienne – his _wife – _spar with the Blackfish every morning. They’d even removed his chains. Brienne was to remain both his spouse and guard, and men followed them at all times. But there was a certain freedom to his life now. Of course, he was still shackled; if not physically, then by circumstance. 

Then, one afternoon, a commotion in the armoury dragged their two watchers away. Jaime took his chance. 

They were in the woods on the Tully estate, and it took only a few seconds for Jaime to grab Brienne and push her against the nearest tree. She gasped as her back hit bark, and Jaime advanced. One hand pinned hers to the tree; the other holding her shoulder in place. She was quick, and strong, but he’d been right all those moons ago: he _was _strong enough. This was it. This was the moment that had consumed his waking thoughts for far too long. 

“You’re trembling. _You’re afraid.” _She nodded. Jaime slid his hand against her neck; his thumb brushing the hollow of her throat. “You think I’ll kill you? You think I’ll take that knife on your hip and slit your throat?” 

He felt the tremors against his hand as she swallowed, and shook her head. “No.” 

Jaime leant forward; his breath fluttering the strands of her blonde hair. “So, what is it, my Lady? What has you so afraid? What do you think I’ll do to you?” 

“I think you’ll kiss me.” 

He grinned; dragging his thumb across Brienne’s mouth. She sighed, eyes closing at his touch. “Clever girl.” 

“We can’t, Jaime. We have a duty—”

“_Fuck _duty. You’re my _wife, _Brienne.” He pressed his forehead to hers; hands clasping her face. “I just want to kiss you.” 

Everything she did after that was the most exquisite agony. Her teeth tugging at the skin of her bottom lip. Her half closed eyelids as she trembled; his slow, gentle touch making her shiver. The way her hands carded through his hair and teased his scalp, pulling him closer and closer until they shared one breath. Her lips brushed his. A tentative first kiss as if they were a squire and a lord’s daughter rather than two knights in the middle of a war. Brienne tasted of sugar and copper; her breath catching as he deepened their kiss. 

It wouldn’t be long before they were found. But Jaime wanted this moment to last for as long as it could. 


	14. "Embrace" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Friends!JB + lazy cuddling on the couch" (anonymous)

“Don’t you have your own place?” 

Jaime grinned, barging past Brienne to gain entry to her flat. “Yes, but I much prefer yours. Look, I brought wine and brownies as a humble offering.” He pushed the bottle and greasy paper bag into her hands. “Is that spaghetti?” 

This was their routine most nights: they’d see each other at work, say their farewells, and within an hour of leaving the office Jaime would be on Brienne’s doorstep. Sometimes he would bring beer or pizza; other times a film to watch or a boardgame to play. Jaime would never arrive on Brienne’s doorstep empty handed. For as much as she rolled her eyes and thought his penthouse apartment was bigger and better, Jaime loved her place. 

It felt more home than home. 

Stripping off his coat and scarf, Jaime hung it with Brienne’s own and immediately went to the kitchen nook. Whilst Brienne grabbed two glasses, he found the dishware and cutlery. 

“Is there garlic bread?” Jaime asked as he loaded his plate full of spaghetti. 

Brienne shoved a meatball into his mouth before ducking down to open the oven. “If I’d known you were coming over, we could have ordered in.” 

“Why? This is _great.” _He stole another meatball from her plate. “_Much _better than eating out.” 

Brienne shook her head, and followed him into the seating area. She turned the television on; immediately searching for the next episode of the show they were bingeing. They ate their spaghetti while the show washed over them; greasy hands smearing garlic bread to catch every drop of Brienne’s homemade sauce. As the next episode came on, Jaime caught Brienne’s eye and _grinned. _He’d never tell her, not sure she’d understand, but these evenings were something he’d always wanted, but never knew he needed. 

His own home was uncomfortable; built for style rather than function. Cersei had picked out the furnishings during her _interior decorator _phase: the television was too high up and the sofa too uncomfortable. Brienne’s sofa almost swallowed you; the television at the perfect height. Jaime would certainly never eat on his sofa, much less stream a show with someone. His previous girlfriends had always insisted on eating out or going to the theatre; never just sitting and watching some bad historical drama. 

“Another episode?”

Jaime smiled. “Sure. I’ll get the brownies.” 

They topped up their glasses and ate the gooey brownies Jaime had bought from the bakery near the office. Three episodes turned into four. Brienne, in her corner of the sofa, stretched out. Her fingertips brushed his shoulder, as they always did, and Jaime knew it was okay. 

With practised ease, he rested his head upon Brienne’s shoulder. As four episodes turned into five, her fingers began to play with his hair. Just the strands falling into his eyes. Then stroking his hair; teasing his scalp. Jaime resisted the urge to purr; instead wrapping his right arm across Brienne’s middle. The first time they’d done this, she’d jumped right up and fled to the kitchen to make tea. Now her free hand slid up his arm; tracing circles along the bare skin. 

Eyes half closed, savouring the satisfying feeling of a good meal and a good cuddle, Jaime asked, “It’s getting late. Can I sleep in your spare room?” 

Brienne nodded, as she always did. One day, he’d just never leave. 


	15. "Nameday" - Childhood Frenemies AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Some jealous Brienne, maybe?" (anonymous)

Brienne watched as Jaime Lannister handed his gold credit card to the caterer, and ticked off the last item on her list. It had been a long day, the end of a long week and several, _several _months of planning. But tonight was the sixtieth nameday party for Tywin Lannister and Selwyn Tarth, and both their heirs had managed to pull together a surprise party without murdering the other. 

After signing away a considerable sum of money, Jaime joined her at one of the banquet tables they’d rented for the party. He lounged back against the chair, observing her with cool green eyes. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?” 

Brienne stared blankly across the table. “It’s as if you think I won’t hit you.” 

“Come _on, _Brienne,” he grinned, leaning towards her. “It hasn’t been _that_ bad. I think you actually quite like me now.” 

Her mouth faltered; unsure what to say when faced with Jaime’s lazy grin. She _did _quite like him now, as a matter of fact. _Only took forty years. _With their fathers being college friends and business partners, Brienne had never known a time when the Lannisters weren’t in her life. She’d always got on well with Tyrion, but Jaime was a different matter. Perhaps it was because she always challenged him in karate class or fencing. Maybe it was his Aunt Genna’s assumption that the two of them would eventually be married; an assumption that both Tywin and Selywn seemed to share. Ultimately Jaime had never had a kind word to say of her, and she could not stomach being in his presence. 

Their fathers upcoming nameday, however, had changed all that. 

Jaime continued to smile at her; now so close he could whisper in her ear. “Do you want to know a secret, Brienne?” She truly didn’t. She had years and years of taunts and japes; cruel insults and childish pranks. She didn’t need another. Not today. “I quite like you too. Very much.” 

Pulling away, Jaime retook his seat. Brienne didn’t know what to say to that either; just tried not to blush too hard or stammer under the force of what she believed to be Jaime’s sole compliment towards her. Clearly she hadn’t succeeded. Jaime grinned before looking at his watch, a sixteenth nameday gift from her father that Jaime seemed to cherish more than his own father’s coming of age gift: fifteen percent of LT Holdings. Tywin had given her the same a year later. 

“I should probably head back to the flat; shower, get changed. Pick up my date.” 

“_Oh.” _Brienne wet her top lip. “You’re bringing a date?” 

Jaime nodded. “It’s a party, Brienne. One tends to bring dates to these things.” 

_But you never do. _Nameday parties, anniversary celebrations, weddings of mutual friends...Jaime _never _brought a plus one to such events. Brienne never did, either, but that was always out of circumstance rather than choice. Dateless, the pair would quickly find themselves thrust together. Aunt Genna would force them into a dance before the evening was out; side by side at dinner and a hissed argument at the bar would follow. 

But not today. Jaime swallowed, looking down at his shoes as he asked, “What about you? Are you bringing someone?” 

“_Of course. _My boyfriend.” 

A muscle in Jaime’s cheek clenched. “We’ve spent nearly every waking moment together for the past few months, and you’ve _never _mentioned a boyfriend.” 

“You didn’t mention a date. Guess we’re not that close.” Brienne gathered up the paperwork on the table, and reached for her bag. “I’ll see you at the party, Jaime.” 

She left first, darting past a waiter restocking the bar for the evening’s events. Brienne could not explain the churning of her stomach; the taste of bile in the back of her throat. As she texted Margaery to ask if she knew of anyone who could pretend to be her boyfriend for the night, Brienne suddenly realised why she was so upset. She’d assumed Jaime would be there by himself so they could be together like always. So they could dance, and eat, and just _be _together. 

Gods. She wanted Jaime. 


	16. "Pseudonym" - Bodyguard AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can we have Bodyguard!Brienne and unwilling yet famous!Jaime??? Please 😊😊" (justjameka)
> 
> I’ve actually written Bodyguard!Brienne before, so I wanted to try something different. Hope you enjoy it! :)

“Do you _have _to stand so close?”

Jaime grinned as he pressed in even closer to Brienne Tarth, enjoying the roll of her shoulders and intake of breath as she summoned up a glare just for him. “Apologies, Ms Tarth, but your publishers employed my services to _protect _you. I can’t very well do it in the coffee shop across the street, can I?” 

Brienne shifted her gaze to the stack of books in front of her. This was the third second-hand bookshop they’d visited that day; after that would be a trip to the library, and several hours tapping out today’s chapter whilst Jaime closed off the curtains and viewed the security feed for any leads on Tarth’s blackmailer. So far, not a trace. But he’d get his man; Jaime always did. Until then, he intended to stick close to Brienne Tarth. 

Especially as her cheeks turned a _gorgeous _hue when he got too close. 

“This really can’t be professional.” 

“Of course it is.” Jaime leaned over and rested his chin atop her shoulder. “I’m _undercover, _Ms Tarth. No one must know I’m your bodyguard, because _no one knows who you are.”_

That little deception was at the root of Tarth’s blackmail threats. To the bestseller lists, and Jaime’s own bookshelf, she was Brien Storm, an alternate history novelist with a rack of awards to ‘his’ good name. A mysterious literary figure, someone had discovered Storm’s true identity two months before. When the cryptic messages turned into blatant threats, Jaime had been called in. He’d yet to express his affections to his favourite novelist. Didn’t help that she was more striking than Jaime could have predicted. 

Just then, someone approached them. Jaime’s hand reached into his back pocket, and the knife he kept there whilst _undercover. _The man, shorter than both Brienne and Jaime, wore a serious expression. “Can I help you with anything?” 

Brienne smiled thinly. “Just looking, thank you.” 

“Yeah, we’re just looking.” Jaime pressed his lips to the fabric of Brienne’s shoulder. “My girlfriend loves to browse.” 

The man’s forehead furrowed as he looked between the two of them, and the possessive – _protective – _hand Jaime placed upon Brienne’s hip. The sales clerk quickly left them to it, and Brienne immediately shook him off. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m your undercover boyfriend.”

She scoffed. “Like anyone will believe that.” 

“I don’t know,” Jaime said, lounging back against the bookshelves. “People will believe anything.”


	17. "Shopping" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "*Runs in and grabs at paragraphs. Falls to knees and begs!* Jaime takes Brienne shopping before a first meeting with his family!" (anonymous)

“Remind me again why I’m letting you do this to me?”

“Because you’re the one who couldn’t resist crawling into bed with me.” 

Brienne frowned; crossing her arms over her chest before Jaime grabbed one and dragged her to the next boutique. “I was _cold. _We were both fully clothed! And I didn’t even know your father had a key.” 

“Neither did I until I found him in our living room.” 

Jaime had woken up beside his best friend and roommate; her body curled around him as they warded off a Winterfell winter in bed together. He’d allowed himself a moment of joy; a brush of his fingers against her forehead. Then he went to make coffee. He’d screamed at the sight of the figure sitting, motionless, in their living room. Brienne had emerged moments later with sleep in her eye and a replica of _Oathkeeper _in her hand. Tywin Lannister was supposed to be in Casterly Rock. He wasn’t supposed to be in Winterfell, visiting his son early on a Sunday. He wasn’t supposed to be frowning that his son and heir had kept his _girlfriend _from him. 

“We should have made it clearer that we’re just friends,” Brienne said, resisting the pull of Jaime’s arm as they stepped into another clothing store. He nodded at the security guard before dragging Brienne in the direction of the dresses. “Can’t we just…I don’t know, pretend to be fighting so I don’t have to come?”

Jaime sighed, bowing his head. He kept his gaze soft; his bottom lip out. “I suppose, Brienne, if you really can’t bear the idea. I’ll step into the lion's den by myself. I mean, a true, _honourable—”_

_“—_do you need a knife, Jaime, because you’re laying it on thick.” But Brienne groaned all the same; shoulders sagging. “_Fine. _I’ll stop moaning. But you owe me, Jaime Lannister.”

“Of course. A Lannister always pays his debts.” 


	18. "Practice" - FWB AU (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "ModernAU/ Friends with Benefits?/ Jaime x Brienne ;)" (anonymous)

Jaime leaned back against the soft fabric of the sofa; the light from the television washing over him as Brienne’s mouth engulfed his cock. They’d been sitting there, watching the new series of _Masterchef, _when Brienne had just said, _Hang on, I want to try something. _The next thing Jaime knew, she was unzipping his jeans and stroking his cock to full hardness. He’d already been half-hard squeezed onto the sofa beside his roommate; their new arrangement leaving him in a constant state of arousal. 

Brienne’s tongue swirled around the head, and Jaime squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pleasure rolled through him. His hand gently carded through Brienne’s hair; teasing that spot just behind her ear. She released his cock with a soft _pop, _and looked up at him with bright eyes. “Am I doing alright?” 

“Yes, Brienne, you’re doing _wonderfully.” _Her nails bit into his upper thighs; Jaime threw his head back and laughed. “No, _no, _I mean it. Although, stopping halfway through to ask _am I doing okay _rather ruins the mood.” 

Brienne cast a sapphire eye upon his cock; still thick and hard. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Duly noted.” 

Two firm hands spread his legs wider as Brienne settled further between them. Her hand teased the base of his cock; her tongue sliding up the length of him. Jaime choked back a gasp. She’d come so far in the few weeks since they’d made their _arrangement. _He liked to think he had, too. After that _disastrous _date where it was made clear his experiences with his step-sister had left him inadequate, Jaime had taken great strides to improve his performance. Brienne, after breaking things off with Hyle, had wanted greater confidence for her next relationship. 

Which was how Jaime found himself coming in Brienne’s mouth; fingers curled in her blonde hair as she sucked him dry. _Definitely a fast learner. _After kissing, groping, and now going down upon the other, that only left one last thing to perfect. 

Jaime thought of falling into bed with his roommate, his best friend. The woman he’d been in love with for the last three years. He moaned. 


	19. "Blind Date" - Actor/Fan AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "*slides over a plate of chocolate chip cookies* some paragraphs from your idea of the day?" (anonymous)
> 
> (Idea of the day: Margaery enters Brienne into a competition to go to the premiere of the new Ser Duncan film, based off Brienne’s favourite character. The only problem is, Brienne hates the smug actor they’ve chosen to play Ser Duncan, and the historical inaccuracies she’s seen in the trailers. Brienne wins.)

_Win a Date with Jaime Lannister!_

Brienne had remembered seeing the competition in pop up ads as she’d searched the web; had seen it mentioned several times on the period forums she traversed to discuss films and television shows set in Ancient Westeros. Other than that, Brienne hadn’t given the competition a second thought. She had no desire to spend an evening at a glitzy premiere, let alone with the man single-handedly responsible for misrepresenting one of the greatest knights in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. 

But Brienne hadn’t anticipated Margaery Tyrell. 

Now she was in a suite at one of the finest hotels in King’s Landing, tugging at the hem of the blue dress Margaery had _insisted _she buy for the premiere of _The Gallows Knight. _Brienne huffed, tugged at the hem again, and waited beside the door for _Jaime_ _Lannister _to pick her up for their _date. _Brienne’s unfortunate prize included a three-course dinner with the vapid actor, a ticket to two hours of historical inaccuracies on the big screen, and a heap of embarrassment as Brienne walked the red carpet in front of photographers and reporters. 

_Finally, _there was a series of knocks on the door. Brienne yanked it open; spilling artificial light from the corridor into her room. And there he was. _Ice and Fire’s _sexiest man of the year, dressed in a tuxedo that cost more than two month’s rent, and a smile that Brienne waited to diminish when he caught sight of the beast who’d be escorting him to his big premiere. 

True to form, Jaime Lannister’s green eyes took her in: the flats on her feet; her long legs; the blue dress that covered her meagre breasts whilst maximising her broad shoulders. His tongue wet his top lip before he blinked; regaining his composure. “Apologies. I didn’t expect…_you.” _

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Brienne resisted the urge to apologise for her presence. But it wasn’t her fault she’d won the competition, or hadn’t provided Margaery with a good enough excuse why she couldn’t make it. “Shall we get this over with?” 

The former teen heartthrob furrowed his brow; caught off guard by her brusqueness. “O–okay. Are you alright with your shoes? No heels?” 

“Believe me, Mister Lannister, neither of us want me towering over you in every photograph snapped on the red carpet tonight.” _Neither of us want to be photographed together at all. _

“I–” Jaime tugged at his collar. “If you’re uncomfortable in them, _by all means. _But don’t _not _wear them on my account.” 

Brienne didn’t know what his _game _was, but she did grab the pair of blue stilettos Margaery had insisted she pack and slipped them on instead of the flats. Whilst before she was but an inch taller than Jaime Lannister, now she had a good four inches on him. He swallowed as he stared; eyes roaming over her legs. He then offered her his arm. 

“Shall we?” 


	20. "Sixteen" - Childhood Frenemies AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "RE: Jealous!Brienne fic. 1. Now I've got bloody 'This is my idea' stuck in my head so thanks a lot, and 2. SO GOOD I NEEDS MORE!!!!!! (Please, I've got a box of Thornton's chocolates, a box of Aero truffles and a bag of double choc chip cookies!)" (anonymous)

“I can’t believe you just _did _that!”

Brienne stormed from the balcony and down into the gardens. Beside him, Tyrion gave him a look: _go after her, or on your head be it. _It wouldn’t just be Uncle Selwyn who’d give him an earful; Father would lecture Jaime senseless for reducing Brienne to tears. Like it was _Jaime’s _fault. She was the one who’d invited Renly Baratheon to her nameday party; _she _was the one who’d practically been drooling on the top of his head all night. 

Rolling his eyes, Jaime followed Brienne’s path before she reached the maze. He shouted after her; she finally stopped just as she reached the swan pond. Jaime was about to offer an insincere apology when she pushed him to the ground. “What did you do that for?”

“You are such an _arse, _Jaime Lannister! We were about to—” Brienne cut herself off, wrapping both arms around herself against the winter chill. “Renly and I were having a _moment.”_

_“_You were having _nothing.” _Jaime picked himself up off the ground and forced his way into Brienne’s face._ “_He was acting all sweet with you because it’s your nameday, but saying all kinds of hateful things behind your back.” 

Brienne scoffed. “Like you don’t.”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t. I say them to your face. Brienne, he’s not a nice guy.” 

He wasn’t, either, but at least he didn’t lead on a sixteen-year-old girl sweet on him and then laugh about her infatuation with his friends and boyfriend. Brienne, however, still seemed utterly enamoured with Renly. He was pretty (Jaime supposed), and funny (Tyrion was funnier). Honestly, as boring and plain as she was, Brienne could do a lot better than Renly Baratheon. 

“I can’t believe you hit him.” _And we’re back to that. “_We were having a moment.He was going to kiss me.”

“He has a _boyfriend, _Brienne! He wasn’t going to kiss you.” 

“Because no one would want to; that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” Brienne pushed him again; Jaime grabbing her very deft hands and pulling her close. “You think no one is ever going to kiss me.” 

“Why in all seven hells are you so obsessed with your first kiss?” Jaime groaned, letting one of Brienne’s hands free to clasp her face instead. “It’s not that important. Look, I’ll show you.” 

And then he kissed her. Firm lips pressed to hers; chapped from the winter breeze. She tasted of fruit punch and icing from her nameday cake, and her mouth opened slightly under his touch. Brienne wasn’t a bad kisser. Wasn’t bad at _all. _No tongue; little moisture. Her teeth caught his bottom lip accidentally and it made him shiver. Renly didn’t know (but no doubt didn’t care) what he was missing. 

Jaime moved to deepen their kiss, but two hands pressed firm against his chest and knocked him back. Above him, Brienne wiped her mouth with her arm and strode off in the direction of the party. Jaime lay on the ground, head twisting to watch her depart. _That was unexpected. _


	21. "Viper" - Princess!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not sure if you're still taking prompts but just incase here's one. Princess Brienne: Jaime gets jealous when Oberyn Martell flirts her, during his visit to Kings Landing." (anonymous)

As Brienne turned nineteen, and the King still refused his adviser's insistence that he take a second wife, a flurry of suitors had attended King’s Landing to vie for the hand of the Princess. As her guard, Jaime was present whenever she was introduced to these men: hedge knights, minor lords, even sons of noble houses. Thankfully, Brienne’s former Septa had developed some _mysterious _ailment and had returned to Tarth. The Princess could thus meet these men without her stark commentary. 

A shame, then, that none of these men were good enough for her. 

Today’s candidates were a hedge knight from the Reach (Jaime forgot his name; his manner as bland as his face), and Prince Oberyn Martell. He could be a legitimate candidate if the Small Council wanted to strengthen ties with Dorne. Jaime couldn’t see it himself. The Red Viper was a known philanderer, and since his arrival in King’s Landing had spent considerable time with Jaime’s own brother in many of the cities brothels. 

Hardly a decent husband for the Princess. 

Yet Oberyn glided through the gardens with ease, dropping to his knees in front of Brienne and instantly taking her hand. He placed a kiss upon the inside of her wrist. “You are as singular as the songs speak of you, my Princess.” 

“You’re too kind, Prince Oberyn.” 

“It’s not a kindness when faced with such beauty. For you are a beauty, Princess Brienne. Perhaps the men of King’s Landing or the Westerlands don’t see it.” Dark eyes glanced up at Jaime, lingering behind her. “But in Dorne, you are quite something.” 

Two pink spots blotted Brienne’s cheeks. The Prince had yet to relinquish Brienne’s hand, and Jaime felt the urge to tear her away. Lock her in her tower; keep her _safe _from all these bloodthirsty hounds looking for a place on the throne. Brienne, however, seemed bowled over by Oberyn’s affections. She kept teasing her bottom lip with her teeth; fingers fiddling with the hem of her jerkin. The Prince pressed another kiss to her hand, this time to her knuckles. 

“Perhaps you would do me the honour of a walk through the gardens? Although, I hear you are quite the swordsman. Perhaps a bout?” 

“I only spar with Ser Jaime.” 

He couldn’t resist grinning over Brienne’s shoulder as Oberyn’s dark eyes once again met his. _She only spars with me, Martell. Only me. _However, that didn’t seem to dissuade the Prince. “You know, in Dorne, we enjoy multiple partners. Perhaps you will as well.” 

The innuendo was clear, and Brienne stammered in the face of it. Her skin turned blotchy, and she stumbled to her feet. Oberyn rose with her, hand still within his, only for Jaime to place a comforting touch to the small of her back. “Are you alright, Princess? Are you unwell?” 

“Too much sun, I think. Forgive me, Prince Oberyn.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Princess. I’ll be here for some time. We have _plenty _of time to get to know one another.” 

The Prince watched them leave the gardens; a curious, contemplating look upon his face as he observed Jaime’s attentive nature. She was his charge, that was _all. _It was Jaime’s responsibility to keep her alive, to keep her well, and to keep her maidenhood intact until the Princess could be married in the Sept of Baelor. Though, if it was up to Jaime, that last one would never happen. None of these men were good enough to be her Prince. 

What Brienne needed was a good man, with a good sword. 


	22. "Lord Commander" - S8 Fix It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime becomes the 1000th Lord Commander of whatever is left of the NW and Brienne is the Lady Commander of Sansa's Queensguard. She has many excuses to travel further North to 'talk over terms' with the Lord Commander. :D" (sansastarkii)

Standing on top of the Wall, staring out onto a fathomless expanse of snow, Jaime was struck by the absurdity of his situation. _Honourable _Lord Stark had tried, _twice, _to banish him here. Once after he had saved the population of King’s Landing, and the other after he’d sought retribution for his missing brother. Leaving Winterfell for his sister, as fruitless as that endeavour had proven later to be, had been the final straw. Stark’s so–_nephew _had done what he could not. 

Ser Jaime Lannister, formerly of Casterly Rock, was now the Lord Commander of a frozen, _pointless _slab of wall. Still, there was one rather _tall _benefit to his situation. 

He heard her before he saw her; her footfall growing increasingly familiar to his ears. “Lord Commander.”

“Lord Commander.” Brienne gave him a brief nod as she stood beside him. “It certainly doesn’t get any warmer here.” 

“I don’t know. I think it’s grown on me.” _Two sentences in, and already a smile. A new record._ “How is Her Grace? I trust you have not left her undefended.” 

“Sandor and Podrick are perfectly capable of protecting Queen Sansa in my absence.” 

Jaime grinned. “You seem to be absent from Winterfell a great deal, Lord Commander.” 

“It’s important the Wall remains guarded. We don’t wish to see a repeat of the Long Night.”

“Of course.” 

As usual, Jaime walked Brienne along the length of the wall and gave his report on the latest events. Half of the new Night’s Watch were stabilising the wall; the other half on daily patrols for any sightings of White Walkers. A fool’s errand, but like before it kept the less desirable citizens of Westeros out the way. As Lord Commander, Jaime could teach the new recruits how to fight, could delegate someone else to deal with the Wildling King, and could entertain visiting dignitaries…_Brienne. He could spend time, uninterrupted, with Brienne. _

They made quite the pair, standing atop the wall. Twin swords, twin positions. Twin girls, running around on Tarth, if Jaime hadn’t been such a fool. _No use dwelling on such things now. _

He glanced over at Brienne; those bottomless pools of blue staring at him with such longing it almost drove him to his knees. As she always did, she quickly turned her attention elsewhere. 

“How long will you stay?” he asked. _Not long enough. Never long enough. _

“A few days. Long enough for arrangements to be made. The Queen wishes to bring together all the important figures of the North; including yourself, Ser Jaime, as Lord Commander.”

He nodded. “Of course; I will answer the call of my Queen.” 

Three, possibly four days with Brienne. A two-week journey south, and then several days at Winterfell. Jaime should have started praying to the Old Gods sooner. 


	23. "Cell Block" - Silence of the Lambs AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *offers some fava beans and a nice chianti* a few sentences of clannibal!braime?

The large metal gate groaned as it slid open; the orderly, Podrick, giving her a reassuring smile as Brienne entered the belly of the beast. Her flats tapped against the peeling linoleum floor; her skirt moving unfavourably across her thighs as she walked the short distance towards the cell at the far end. So few were housed in the Riverlands Institute for the Criminally Insane due to growing budget cuts, but the Kingslayer had warranted a hall all to himself. Brienne slowed her approach as she reached his home for the last seventeen years. 

And there he was. _The Kingslayer. _

Whatever Brienne expected, it wasn’t _this. _Dark-blonde hair gracing the breadth of his shoulders; a thick beard with a few specks of silver. Sharp green eyes that followed the length of her legs, all the way up her considerable torso, and met her own gaze. She had a vague understanding of his case, yet she hadn’t expected the Kingslayer to be so…_handsome. _But underneath the beautiful visage was a man who had committed pure evil. An oathbreaker, who had broken his most sacred vow: _do no harm. _

“The fluorescent lights do you no favours, sweetling.” 

Brienne bristled, but kept her retort to herself. “Doctor Lannister, my name is Brienne Tarth. Might I speak with you?” 

“You _might.” _He approached the thick sheet of glass that separated them. His gaze was intense; head cocked as he no doubt tried to find the soft underbelly for which to sink his teeth. “You’re one of Baratheon’s. Not _Stannis, _I hear he’s gone and found religion.”

“I work under Renly Baratheon.” 

Doctor Lannister snickered, peeling himself away from the glass to lie upon his bed in the corner. “I’m sure you’d like to, sweetling, but Renly prefers to be the bottom. Or so I’ve heard.”

Brienne pressed her tongue to her teeth, determined not to bite back. To fail Renly. “I have no interest in foul rumours, Doctor Lannister.”

“Unless they’re about me?” 

“That’s a _fact. _Proven in a court of law.”

In the dim light of the cells, Brienne could make out a glint in his green eyes. “Is it now?” 


	24. "Corset" - Model AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "PARAGRAPH PROMPT: Brienne has been Jaime’s model before but in either themed or “normal” photo shoots. The corset photoshoot happens and Jaime’s brain short circuits. GIVE. NOW." (agirlnamedkeith)
> 
> Inspired by Gwen's most recent photoshoot.

Jaime took a sip of hot coffee, before adjusting the position of his lens. The camera was aimed at the bed; crimson sheets and pillows piled high. A little _Lannister _touch that was sure to earn an eye-roll from his model. _Serves her right for accepting something as _boring _as a nightwear shoot. _Jaime usually shot Brienne on a horse, in mail, or at the very least carrying a _sword. _Their first job together, both desperately needing cash, had been stock photos for a history book. 

But he was a good photographer, she was a _fascinating _subject, and Jaime had shot two coffee table books since, among many other projects. 

Now, in his loft space in Storm’s End, Jaime was preparing to shoot numerous photos of Brienne in pyjamas. He adjusted the lens again, before stepping over to the bed to move some of the pillows. _Boring. _But it was a favour for Brienne’s friend Margaery, and it couldn’t hurt having his photos in _Ice & Fire _magazine. Even if they were just bland shots of his best friend in pyjamas. Perhaps they’d have little lions on them. He’d never let Brienne live it down. 

“Are you ready yet?” Jaime asked, a flash of lightning illuminating the room. _The Stormlands really lives up to its name. _

“Just about. Are you sure you’re alright doing this? I could ask Jon’s friend—”

“—_no.” _Brienne was _his_ model, his muse, his _best friend. _Some wildlife photographer from up North wasn’t going to get Brienne behind his lens. Although, if she took any longer to get ready…“The light’s going, Brienne.”

“Well, you said you wanted a challenge.” 

The bathroom door opened just as a crack of thunder echoed through the room. Jaime glanced at Brienne; she’d pulled her hair back, a few messy strands framing her face. No makeup except a smear of red against her mouth. _Will look great with the sheets. _As expected, she gave him an eye-roll as to his colour scheme. She was wearing a blue robe, and bare feet. 

Teeth teasing her bottom lip, Brienne stared at him. “Where do you want me, Jaime?” 

“On the bed will be great. We’ll see how it goes from there.” 

Brienne hesitated for a moment; hands toying with the ties of the robe. “You know, maybe I should have asked someone else. This might be weird.” 

Jaime resisted the urge to remind Brienne that they’d shared a bed on numerous occasions when their budget was tight. He’d seen her in pyjamas before; he’d actually _worn _hers before. “I’ll be a professional. Just take off that robe and get on the bed.” 

So she did. And Jaime realised he’d misunderstood _nightwear _completely_. _

Brienne wore a corset; the black material offsetting her white skin _beautifully. _He could see a hint of pink underneath the material; Brienne’s nipples barely covered by the delicate lace. Golden buckles, little _suns _like the old Tarth sigil, held the corset over her breasts and torso. Her knickers left miles and _miles _of alabaster leg on display; to say nothing of the sharp indent of her collarbones, and the taut muscles of her neck. She was _glorious. _

Jaime couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He was just witness to Brienne crawling across his bed, and settling herself against his pillows. She turned to him, seemingly unaware of his distraction or his cock hardening at the sight of so much skin on display. _And all for him. _

“Is this alright?” Brienne said, lying back with one hand on her stomach and the other on the sheets. “Or is there another way you want me?” 

_Let me count the ways. _


	25. "Storm" - Queen!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you feel like writing something tonight, could I very self-indulgently ask for some comfort scene for any AU (though I suppose Queen!Brienne comes to mind, of Princess!Brienne, but modern would also be absolutely perfect because reasons)? Doesn't have to be because of something Big, just, some comfort and maybe a cuddle between Brienne and Jaime. (If I can't have that, could as well dream of reading something like that from one of my favorite writers, right?) Thank you in any case." (scoundrels-in-love)

Jaime clutched the two wooden swords in his hand and stared out at the dark clouds hanging over King’s Landing; rain covering the city in a fine mist. The Citadel believed winter would soon come, and the slight chill in the air suggested they were right. _Damn. _Both he and Brienne had fought in worse conditions than this. But the beauty of being Queen and Hand meant they didn’t have to spar in them. 

“Podrick?”

A squire was one of his father’s gifts at being made Hand to the Queen. Podrick had barely seen his ninth nameday but he was a sweet lad. He practically stumbled over his own feet to reach him. “Yes, milord?”

“Return these swords to my rooms.”

“Where will you be after, milord?”

Jaime grinned. “With Her Grace. You don’t need to disturb us.” 

His squire ran off with the two swords that were practically the size of him, and Jaime headed for the Queen’s chambers. It was still early; many staying within the Red Keep had yet to awake. He expected Brienne to be up and dressed; perhaps finishing a hearty breakfast she would use to drive him into the dirt. When he arrived at her chambers, however, he found none of those things. Ser Brynden gave him a single nod, and allowed him in without any announcement. 

Brienne stood by the open window in nothing more than her shift. Arms crossed, eyes soft, she stared at the first storm to hit King’s Landing in many, _many _moons. The wind caught in the drapes and blew them into the room; Jaime could feel the slight chill from the door. 

Grabbing a blanket from the bed, Jaime rushed over and wrapped it around Brienne’s shoulders. “You’ll catch your death. It’s _freezing, _Brienne.” 

“It’s a storm.”

“Yes, _yes, _it’s a storm.”

Her arms were like she’d been taken by the White Walkers. Jaime pulled the blanket further around her shoulders, before pressing Brienne against his torso. His hands slid up and down her arms, trying to drag some warmth back into her body. Brienne was fixated on the open window; on the rain which had become sheets pouring down upon an unsuspecting city. Her fingers tightened around the leather of his jerkin. 

“It feels like _home.”_

_Of course. _A girl from the Stormlands would enjoy the rain, and the wind. He liked when Brienne talked about Tarth. When she talked about anything that made her smile. “Tell me about it.” 

Jaime ushered Brienne onto a nearby chaise; her body resting against his. She was still too cold. Whilst Brienne talked about the last great storm she’d seen on Tarth, Jaime managed to summon some hot water, a fire, and some more blankets. They huddled together on the chaise, Jaime’s arms wrapped around Brienne, as they watched the storm outside. He continued to hold her, long after she grew warm. 


	26. "Intended" - Arranged Marriage AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you are still taking JB prompts, could I have a modern day arranged marriage AU? I love pushy Tywin." (anonymous)

“That’s her. Brienne Tarth. She’s talking to her father, Selwyn.”

Jaime followed Tyrion’s outstretched finger and caught his first glimpse of his future wife. Tall. Blonde. Periwinkle blue eyes. A nice, if slightly crooked, smile. She was talking animatedly with her father. Jaime thought he’d feel something seeing her for the first time. But there was nothing special about Brienne Tarth. She was a thirty-two year old singleton with enough family money to be considered a match for Tywin Lannister’s son and heir. No more, no less.

“What do you think?” Tyrion said, looking at his phone and Bronn’s description. “She’s…almost pretty.”

He shrugged. She could be the most beautiful woman in Westeros, and she would still be the woman his father was forcing him to marry. “She’s better than losing my house, my car, my replica swords. I’m sure I’m not her ideal husband, either.”

His brother raised a single eyebrow, but did not comment. Jaime was still considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms, but he had never found himself serious with anyone. _Hence his father’s ultimatum. _Tyrion was probably right: he could swan up there, introduce himself, and have his future wife falling over him within a matter of minutes. _Nothing special. _

“So, are you going to go over and introduce yourself?”

Jaime tried to imagine waking up to this woman every morning. Getting home and seeing her face every day. He sighed. “Maybe later.”

Patting his brother on the shoulder, Jaime decided to put some distance between himself and Brienne Tarth. He took off to investigate Evenfall Hall, the ancestral home of his future bride. There was a museum, and a mock tourney, and Jaime wondered if he switched to wooden swords or maybe a side hobby as a cat burglar he could afford his weaponry from the Dragon Ages and not have to marry the most boring, most _bland _woman in all of the Stormlands.

Sighing, Jaime slipped inside Evenfall Hall and found himself walking through some of the exhibits. One, in particular, caught his eye: he had the replica at home. “Oathkeeper.”

“Good eye.” 

He hadn’t seen the tall blonde approach. She had an inch on him; blonde hair pulled away from her face. Eyes the colour of the water surrounding the island, and a smile that made Jaime long to do whatever it took to see it again. She was talking animatedly about the history of the blade, how it came to be housed at the Evenfall museum. She talked about its sister sword and Jaime found himself chiming in with a few facts himself. 

She grinned at him. “I have a few replicas. Would you–I don’t suppose you’d like to spar with them, would you?”

Jaime found himself nodding. Now, why couldn’t _this _be Brienne Tarth?


	27. "Billboard" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I suck at sending prompts, but hear me out: Jaime is this high power businessman with barely any free time, he's a hopeless romantic but it's perpetually single. One day he opens the blinds in his office and right in front of him there's this blonde amazonian goddess in a corset. He becomes obsessed, he even talks to her. With his connections he could easily meet the model on the billboard but he's scared shitless cause no way reality can be better than his fantasy, right?" (anonymous)

The office was quiet when Jaime stepped off the elevator. He expected nothing less, considering it was half six in the morning and the sun had barely risen. Winter had come earlier than the Citadel had predicted, and Jaime was not looking forward to months, Gods forbid even _years, _of cold icy mornings dragging his sorry arse into the office to prove to his father that he _was _capable of running Lannister Holdings. 

Coffee in hand, Jaime found the remote for the blinds and brought the thin morning light into his office. That’s when he saw it for the first time. _The billboard. _

It was an advertisement for Golden Rose Lingerie, one branch of the Tyrell Foundation. The model was…_unusual. _Androgynous features; pale skin. Blue eyes that were _clearly _photoshopped (no one in the world had eyes that blue). Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and she wore a cream corset with tan lace covering her breasts. The billboard was certainly an improvement on the advert for carpet cleaner that had been there the day before. Other than that, Jaime couldn’t care less. 

When Tyrion arrived in the office at close to ten (bringing with him two everything breakfast bagels whose crumbs would litter Jaime’s reports), he stared out the window for some time. “She’s certainly something, isn’t she.” 

Jaime just shrugged, and continued checking the figures in front of him. “She’s a half-naked woman on a billboard, Tyrion. Nothing more.”

“She’s not my type, but I will admit she is striking. It’s those eyes. And the collarbones. And the…_innocence _despite her being in lingerie.”

He pushed aside the paperwork and stared at his brother. “She’s just a woman, Tyrion. And those eyes are probably the vibrance filter turned all the way up.” 

His brother frowned, but thankfully joined him at his desk to discuss figures rather than stare out the window. Jaime had half a mind to close the blinds from then on, especially as every visitor to his office that day seemed to have something to say about the lingerie model looking right into his office. Connington on three had some rather unsavoury remarks. Podrick, his brother’s assistant, blushed and stammered all the way through giving Jaime last month’s projections. It frustrated Jaime to no end. 

No more than his own growing obsession, however. 

When his eyes grew tired, and the appendices and spreadsheets began to blur together, his gaze would shift to the window. To the blue eyes that seemed reminiscent of the waters he’d swam in last year when he’d holidayed on Tarth. To the wisps of blonde hair framing her face. To the length of bare neck that Jaime could picture putting his mouth on; lips light as he moved from her jaw to the hollow of her throat. Collarbones he would lave over with his tongue. Endless creamy skin that Jaime would mark with his teeth; the brush of a day’s stubble against the top of her breasts. 

The billboard was too far away, but in his lust-filled haze he could almost see the point of her nipples through the lace cups. 

“Fuck.” 

It was nearing eight, and Jaime had not yet left the office. The dinner his assistant had brought lay cold to one side; only the cleaning staff remained and they avoided his office like he carried greyscale. Outside, the strip lights above the billboard kept the Golden Maiden in full view. Jaime’s gaze lingered upon her breasts. His suit trousers tightened; his stomach coiling with _want. _It had been months since he’d had sex; he had no time for a relationship and Jaime cared little for one night stands (like his sister) or paying for it (like his brother). Getting himself off in his office would have to do. 

Unzipping his trousers, Jaime slid a hand inside his briefs and pulled out his cock. A few strokes had him hard and aching, and Jaime tried to keep his gaze upon the billboard outside. He kept slipping, though. Imagined this woman waiting back at his apartment: face bare, hair pulled back. She’d worn the lingerie for him, and he took his time undressing her. Every hook was replaced by his mouth; every lace a stroke of his finger. She’d be begging for him to be inside her; crying out his name until it was nothing more than broken syllables. 

Jaime spilled in his hand; the waves of his orgasm rolling through him. He slumped back in his office chair, and found the cool eyes of the model staring back. He needed to find out her name. He needed to have the billboard removed. 

Whatever he did, he couldn’t do this again. 


	28. "Puff Piece" - Actor/Critic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picture Prompt!

Brienne struggled to keep the smile upon her face as Jaime Lannister settled in the chair in front of her. Her dressing room at _The_ _Sapphire _theatre was small; all peeling paint with cracks in the corner of her mirror. Flowers her father had sent, _sunflowers _no less, had begun to wilt and the smell was overpowering. Perhaps, in his previous life, Lannister would have met his interviewees at an upscale restaurant or in a well-stocked hotel bar. 

But that was _before, _and regional theatre reviewers could not afford five-star locales. 

Crossing one leg over the other, Lannister pressed _record _on his Dictaphone and placed it atop her dressing table. He then pulled out a legal pad full of notes. “So. Brienne Tarth. Playing Jeyne in _The_ _Sapphire’s _production of _Oathkeeper.”_

She wet her top lip. “That’s right.” 

“I once saw Ashara Dayne perform that role at _The Red Keep _in King’s Landing. She was…_phenomenal. _What made you think you could cope with such a role?” Brienne stuttered, flustered by the wording of his question. “Surely that’s not difficult to answer.” 

Lannister reached for the glass of ice water and lemon that one of the production assistants had brought him. He took a sip, then another when Brienne didn’t respond. “Let’s start with something easier. “Do you believe that audiences will accept you as Jeyne, who’s usually played by an actress with a…_smaller _stage presence?”

“I–I think—”

“Take your time.” He took another sip of water. “If you want, you can write the answer down and read it back to me.”

Something in Brienne _snapped. _How _dare _he _sit _there and throw absurd, _leading _questions in her face in what was supposed to be nothing more than a puff piece about _The_ _Sapphire’s _first production since the floods last summer. This wasn’t even a commissioned article: Renly had called his former brother-in-law to help promote his first play as director. _Clearly _Jaime Lannister hoped to claw his way back into the limelight with a damaging piece, and Brienne refused to let it happen. 

“The reason why Jeyne has always been played by some simpering brunette on stage is because directors have long seen her character as nothing more than Arthur’s love interest. The historical foundation on which _Oathkeeper _is based upon describes Jeyne as ‘as tall as a Wildling, and with Targaryen ancestry’. I see my portrayal as bringing Jeyne back to her roots. But to be frank, Mister Lannister, I would have loved to have played Arthur.”

“So why didn’t you?” he shrugged, unfazed by her response. “Small theatre; small audience. You could have played the male lead quite easily instead of Hyle Hunt. Does Renly Baratheon not have any faith in you?” 

“He _has _faith in me!” Brienne threw herself back in her chair, frustrated that she had immediately lost the ground she had just gained. Sitting across from her, Jaime Lannister just smirked. “What about you? Does anyone have any faith in you to actually _publish _this?” 

That smirk quickly evaporated. _Ha. _


	29. "Rock Band" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "JxB prompt? Hard rock/punk/metal concert, Jaime ends up in the mosh pit by accident or because he got too big for his britches and Brienne saves him?" (anonymous)

Of all the people Jaime had expected to see in a grungy Fleabottom bar listening to a Blackfish cover band, it was not his colleague Brienne Tarth. Gone were the sensible flats, tailored trousers, and sensible buttoned shirts. She actually looked _relaxed; _Tarth must have removed the stick from her arse before she’d gone out tonight. Hair pinned back; a black t-shirt that showed off the muscles in her arms. She was grinning at the bartender, beer in hand. 

Jaime couldn’t quite reconcile this image with the woman that had lectured him on semi-colons not four hours before. He sidled up to the bar, signalling the bartender for another whiskey, and turned to Brienne. “So, looks like I’m not the only one with a twin.” 

Tarth froze, lips still around the rim of her pint glass. “_Lannister.”_

“I mean, you _can’t _be my colleague Brienne Tarth. She’d never be out in a bar at gone ten on a Thursday night. So you must be her twin sister. What’s your name? Blue eyes? Wench? _Freckles.”_

“Piss off.”

Jaime grinned, leaning against the bar as he pushed up against Brienne. “No, _seriously, _this is the last place I’d expected to find you. I thought you’d be sitting at home with a _good book, _waiting until you could go to sleep at nine pm.”

Those blue eyes flashed, and Jaime leaned in even closer. This would be _good. _In the office, they could only throw so many barbs around; Catelyn dragging them in on more than one occasion with the direction to _play nice. _But they were in a bar, now. Sticky floors; the smell of sex and spilled liquor. There was no line that could not be crossed here. So Jaime waited for her parry, and was not left disappointed. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here, either; a man of your…_experience. _Just don’t go near the stage: the speakers will destroy what little hearing you have left.”

“I have more stamina than most of these young men, Tarth. You should test me, I might surprise you.”

She snorted. “No thanks. Unlike the women you usually spend time with, I don’t have daddy issues.” Brienne took a gulp of her beer. “Or granddaddy issues.”

“Ouch. I’m only _eight _years older than you.” 

“And yet, half the time you act like a child.” Brienne drained her glass, and left it empty atop the bar. “They’ve just started the mosh pit. Want me to call your babysitter to bring you home? I’ll make sure Bronn puts you down for a nap.” 

Jaime stared, unable to shift his gaze as Brienne left the bar and joined the flurry in front of the stage. Most Blackfish fans were tall and bearded; although she didn’t stand out because of her height, Brienne’s platinum blonde hair and shining eyes allowed Jaime to spot her instantly. Whether it was the alcohol or the change in setting but Brienne’s behaviour had left him…a little turned on, to be frank. _Fuck. _

Finishing his whiskey, Jaime slammed his glass upon the bar and followed Brienne into the mosh pit. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – let her get the last word. 


	30. "Taken" - Arranged Marriage AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Omg a follow up to that modern AU arranged marriage please." (anonymous)

“So, what brings you to Tarth?” 

A simple enough question. As curator of Evenfall Hall, Brienne often encountered tourists looking to explore the history of her island as well as it’s blue waters and sandy beaches. But something about this man, who’d she’d found utterly fixated by Oathkeeper, made Brienne hope he had a different story. Perhaps he was a visiting professor, or a historical fiction novelist. Someone she could have a lengthy conversation with, before he disembarked like all the other tourists.

That’s all Brienne wanted. Just a conversation. She had no illusions about anything else: men who looked like _him _were not worth daydreaming over. 

“It’s..it’s sort of a _weird _story.” 

Brienne grinned as she took out the heavy set of keys that opened the armoury of Evenfall Hall, closed off to tourists due to health and safety. “I like weird stories.” 

The man grinned, and ran a hand through his dark-blonde hair. “_Well, _I–my _brother _has been set up with this woman at our father’s insistence. They’re technically supposed to meet next week at some big charity event in King’s Landing, but we wanted to take a look at her first. That sounds rather stalkerish, now that I think about it.” 

“Having been on my fair share of blind dates, I’d rather know what I was walking into.”

They both stepped into the armoury; the man gasping at the rows of weaponry on display. Brienne felt a shiver run through her as he immediately brushed past, examining sword after sword. He then spotted the shield in the corner and _crowed. _“Is that what I think it is?” 

“We’ve never been able to verify it, which is why it’s not on display in the museum, but _yes, _it’s Ser Duncan’s shield.” 

Her stomach fluttered at the man’s easy grin; his green eyes bright at taking in so much history. When he turned to look back at her, Brienne felt a pink blush rise across her cheeks. For anyone else, being alone in a quiet corner of the castle with a beautiful man would be a romantic dream come true. But she was _her, _and no amount of antique broadswords would make him press her against the stone wall and kiss her until her lips were pink and swollen. 

_Get a hold of yourself, Brienne. Technically, you’re taken. _“Let me get those tourney swords. So, did you find your brother’s blind date?” 

“Sort of. His PI friend could only give us a description; there’s no pictures of her online.” Brienne’s online presence was minimal, too: on the website for Evenfall Hall, her staff picture was her in full armour with her helm down. “Set ups, though. I mean, what if you _hate _the person?” 

Many of her father’s blind dates had loathed her on sight. Brienne saw no reason why her _fiance, _who Brienne had never met nor knew the name of, would feel any different. But Brienne would go along with it to appease her father in the wake of his latest health scare. Hopefully the future Mister Tarth did not care for the sight of her, and broke off the engagement quickly and without fuss. Brienne could then go back to entertaining tourists and engaging with ridiculously handsome men who kept smiling so _damn _politely at her. 


	31. "Take the Lead" - Queen!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would like my present: Queen!Brienne and Jaime and a dance." (agirlnamedkeith)

For the second time in their acquaintance, Jaime Lannister entered the Queen’s chambers to find her being fitted for a dress. Brienne stood upon the dais being attended to by the Tyrell tailor and two of her handmaidens. Sensing his arrival, Brienne looked over her shoulder to offer him a smile; her features positively _bursting _with happiness. Whilst, in the day-to-day, Brienne preferred breeches and jerkins, this ball required a dress. And what a dress it was. 

“Your Grace, you look…” Jaime struggled for a word that would describe how _beautiful _he found Brienne suitable for mixed company. “Every eye will be upon you tomorrow night.” 

“Thank you, Ser Jaime. We’re nearly finished; will you wait?”

_For eternity, _he thought, but could not say that in mixed company, either. A few stitches later, and the Tyrell tailor was satisfied with his handiwork. Rather than the hideous pink of her coronation gown, this dress was Tarth blue with a billowing skirt. Silver embroidery covered the bodice; moons and stars stitched neatly into the fabric. The dress revealed Brienne’s muscular arms, and the delicate cords of her throat. He would have to dress appropriately tomorrow night. A matching coat in the Queen’s colours would not be amiss for her Hand. 

“Do you really think it’s alright?” Brienne asked when they were finally alone. She took his offered hand and stepped down from the dais, immediately spinning in a circle. “I think I look alright.” 

“Brienne, you…” He took her hand once more and let his lips linger against her skin. “I thought you could not look more beautiful at your coronation, but it seems the Tyrell tailor has made me a liar.” 

Her cheeks caught aflame, and Jaime watched with delight as she teased her bottom lip with her teeth. “_I’m glad. _Not about the lying, or Master Flowers making you a liar, but that I–that I–forgive me, Jaime, I’m babbling. It’s my first ball in some time and I just want it to be perfect. I want to look like I belong and for someone to ask me to dance—”

“—_I will_.” Jaime grinned. He never grew tired of holding Brienne in his arms. Sharing a dance with her would be exquisite. “Do you dance like you fight?” 

Brienne laughed. “I’m better at the fighting, but I’m a rather good dancer. And you, Jaime?” 

“_No,” _he readily admitted, leaning forward as if sharing some horrible secret with his dearest friend. “I’m a terrible dancer. Always thinking two steps ahead; can never quite get my feet to move in the right fashion. Cersei always wanted me to lead but I was awful at it. So she gave up. Found someone else.” 

A flash of pity crossed Brienne’s features, as it always did when he mentioned his sister. But then her mouth firmed, and her eyes hardened as they often did when they sparred in the yard and Brienne had formed a plan of attack. Still in her gown, she took his hands and lead him into an empty spot near the open window.

“I prefer to lead, anyway.” She took his right hand and placed it upon her shoulder. Jaime couldn’t resist brushing his thumb in a small circle across the material. Brienne shivered. She then placed her left hand on his waist, and linked their free hands together. “Slow and steady; follow my lead.” 

Brienne stepped back and he followed. To the right and he followed. She pushed forward and he pulled her a little closer. To the left, and back. Forward and closer still, until Brienne’s left arm was wrapped around his waist. Their steps slowed; neither wanting to let a crack of air slip between them. There were a few stumbles; Jaime fearing for the hem of Brienne’s new dress. But ultimately they moved in unison, as they’d done so when the assassins had broken into this very room. 

“You’re better at this than you think you are,” Brienne said, breaking her hold upon his hand to knot her arms around Jaime’s neck. His moved to clutch at her waist. They swayed to no music, just the wild sound of Jaime’s beating heart as Brienne slipped closer still. “You’ll be my first dance, won’t you?”

He nodded. “And your last. And all the ones in between.” 

Jaime wanted to kiss her. With her lips slightly parted, her blue eyes wide and seeking his, he wanted to close the distance and finally kiss the woman who occupied his every waking thought. All she had to do was ask him. _Kiss me, Jaime, _and he would. But not until she said those words. He would not take Brienne’s first kiss from her until he knew her lips craved his own. 

He had so much of Brienne, more than he ever thought possible. If this was all he could possess, then it would be enough. She would _always _be enough.


	32. "Good Neighbours" - Teen AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Since you’re in the mood for high school aus here’s an idea: J and B are like next door neighbors and have known each other for yearsssss. Jaime’s always been a sort-of bully to her (but he also has a deeep unconscious crush on her). When she joins the sports team he’s a part of all of the male teammates start treating her badly, saying terrible things about her. And Jaime gets Pisssssed because he’s the only one who can say those things about her...." (anonymous)

_Oathkeeper, _Brienne’s rusted sapphire-blue car, shuddered into the driveway. She quickly turned off the engine, fearing for a brief moment that the hood would start to smoke – and not for the first time. Thankfully, _Oathkeeper _remained _not _on fire, and Brienne could head inside to do her homework. For once she wouldn’t be running to her bedroom, throwing on the latest _Blackfish _album to the highest volume, and muttering to herself _don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. _

School today had been…_okay. _

Brienne grabbed her backpack and got out of the car. As she walked the short distance to her front door, her hands began wrenching at the hem of her skirt. _King’s Landing Academy _had a very specific dress code: all female pupils _must _wear skirts. On a normal teenage girl, this skirt would cover their knees. But for Brienne, miles and miles of long leg were on display. Whether it was the taunting wolf-whistles from the boys, or the snide looks from the girls, Brienne wished she had the confidence to launch a petition to allow female pupils to wear trousers. 

But today, there had not been a single comment. Perhaps because the person who teased her the most was off sick. 

“_Damn.” _Brienne had completely forgotten the assignments she’d been asked to give to Jaime: her neighbour, her classmate, her teammate. Once upon a time, _best friend. _But that was a long, _long _time ago. “_Fine. _Let’s get this over with.” 

Shouldering her backpack, Brienne headed next door. She rapped her knuckles three times on the door, and waited for the housekeeper to greet her. Instead, the door opened a crack, and Brienne saw a sliver of Jaime Lannister’s profile. “What do you want, Tarth?” 

“Our teachers sent me home with your homework.” 

“How very _responsible _of you.” 

“Piss off.” There was a time, back when they were children, that Brienne would have walked on wobbly legs to his house with a bowl of hot soup when Jaime was sick. _I just want to take care of him, _she’d said, when her father had asked what she was doing. _He’s my friend. _Not anymore. “Do you want your homework or not?” 

“Do I have a choice? Just post it through the letterbox.” 

“But you’re right—this is _ridiculous.”_

Brienne pushed wide the familiar red door with the lion head knocker. Jaime stumbled back as she forced her way inside, slamming the folders of assignments that were due first thing next week into his chest. Up close, Brienne quickly learnt why Jaime had only opened the door a crack. He wasn’t sick. He was _hurt_. Splotches of blue and green covered his face; a vicious cut healing above his left eye. There were red marks around both wrists, too. 

“_Jaime.” _Brienne brushed her fingertips against a welt on his cheek, and for a moment they were seven years old again. But then he smacked her hand aside. 

“I’m _fine. _Thank you for the homework, now will you please _leave me alone.” _

He practically shoved her outside. The red door slammed in her face. A metaphor for their relationship if she’d ever heard one. Some part of Brienne cried out that she should be _happy _someone had wrecked Jaime’s pretty face: after all, he’d spent the last six years making comments about hers. Not so much recently, though. That duty had taken up by the others on the rugby team: constant comments about her height, her face; the insinuation that no one, _ever, _would touch her let alone _love _her.

Brienne thought, again, what a _quiet _day she’d had. She then slammed her hand against the door until Jaime threw it open. “_What _is your _problem_?”

“Connington, Eddie, Hyle, and Bushy were all off sick today, too.” 

Something flickered in Jaime’s green eyes that Brienne could not name. He exhaled, and began slowly closing the door. “Goodbye, Brienne.” 

Brienne stood on the Lannister doorstep, a million thoughts racing through her head, until Tyrion arrived home from debate practice and asked _are you alright? _

“I don’t know.”


	33. "Gifts" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompt: J/B coworkers. Jaime has been leaving Brienne small gifts, thinking she'll know they're from him. Instead, she thinks they're from Oberyn (maybe bc he's been hitting on her) and Jaime has to figure out how to make her realize they're not (because he's an idiot that can't be upfront)." (anonymous)

Jaime Lannister swan through the doors of Stark, Tully & Reed early that Monday morning after spending the last four weeks stuck in a dingy police interview room in Braavos. Rather than go to his office, catch up on his messages, Jaime immediately took himself to the office of his frequent co-counsel, Brienne Tarth. She was always in this time of the morning when few else were. The perfect time for a reunion, and for them to discuss what had nearly occurred before he’d left for the Free Cities. 

That kiss had occupied his every waking thought, and several of his nocturnal ones. 

True to form, Brienne was in her office looking over files and depositions. He rapped three times upon her door, and waited for her to look up. Brienne’s face flooded with joy, and she crossed the room to meet him. Jaime abandoned his jacket and briefcase and swept Brienne up in the hug he’d been picturing ever since his flight from Braavos had departed. 

“It’s good to see you, Stilts,” Jaime said, earning a soft jab to the ribs for the old nickname. He pulled back and took her in. Four weeks was far too long without catching a glimpse of those eyes. “How’s it been here?” 

“Peaceful. I wonder why?” Brienne smirked. “_No_, it’s been fine. The Martell case settled two days after you left, so I could have easily come with you.” 

Jaime shrugged as together they made their way to Brienne’s desk; he taking up his customary position on the corner. “You would have hated Braavos. Too hot; too unfriendly. Some little teenager glaring at you when you’re only trying to help.” 

Arya Stark’s gap year in the Free Cities had _not _been a success. With her daughter arrested after a young woman had been found dead in her hostel, Catelyn had begged Jaime (who’d had his own brushes with murder charges) to fly out and represent her. He and Brienne had gone over strategy for hours the night before his flight, and after one too many whiskies there had been a…_moment. _Pounding hearts, open mouths. One inch closer and they would have kissed. But then Podrick, their paralegal, had interrupted. 

Moment over, but unforgotten. Jaime had spent the last four weeks giving Brienne some space, but showing that he cared deeply for her. 

The sunflowers, one of four bouquets he’d sent to her office, were blooming quite well upon her desk. Jaime admired the yellow petals. Brienne smiled. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Would you believe they’re from Martell?” 

Jaime could very easily _not _believe it, as he’d spent thirty minutes calling a florist from a police station phone to arrange their delivery. “Why do you think they’re from Martell? Was there a card?” The first bouquet should have had a card. _Thinking about you from across the Narrow Sea, Jaime. _

“No, no card. But they arrived the day after the case was settled. It’s not just flowers; there’s been pastries delivered, lunch every day from _Hot Pie’s_.” _Yes, because you have a tendency not to eat whilst working and I wanted to take care of you best I could._ “Even this children’s book about a blue knight going on a bear hunt, which I thought was rather sweet.” 

“Very sweet. Such a thoughtful gift.” Jaime had seen it in a secondhand bookshop in Braavos, and called his brother (the antiques dealer) to procure a copy that could be delivered to Brienne’s office. Was it thoughtful? _Yes. _Had Jaime imagined them reading it to their own little cub? _No comment. _“So, all these gifts are from Martell.” 

“I can’t imagine they’d be from anyone else. Suitors aren’t exactly beating down the door, and Martell was always flirting with me.” As unsubtle as a brick wall, that one. “We’re going for dinner tomorrow night.” 

Jaime’s throat seized; the words strained. “Tomorrow? Why not _tonight_?” 

Brienne frowned, and Jaime realised he needed to reel in his frustration. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t see his card. “You’ve just got back, Jaime. I–I thought we could spend tonight together? Unless you don’t want—”

“—_no, _I do. I’ve missed you terribly, Brienne.” 

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Jaime stared across the desk into those blue eyes, and accepted that he would have to let Brienne go to dinner with Martell. His soft approach to wooing his colleague, his dear friend, would continue long after Martell’s dinner crashed and burned. Brienne would realise the brash Dornishmen did not do _subtle _gestures, and perhaps she would look a little closer to home as to her admirer. They would transition from friends to lovers slowly, and easily, and it would all be worth this miscommunication when they were going to Braavos on their honeymoon.


	34. "Set Up" - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was about to come begging for you for a corset pic fic, and am delighted I've been beaten to it. In that case, I would love a modern day fic in which Tywin ships Brienne and Jaime." (anonymous)

Tywin Lannister was not the sort of man to be found in a museum cafe and gift shop. Yet, on that blustery Thursday morning, the Lannister Holdings CEO was sitting at a small table with the least amount of gum stuck to the bottom; circling a plastic spoon in a cup of tea. He took a sip, wrinkling his nose at the taste. Thankfully he was not here for their stock of beverages, but more for their assistant curator: one Brienne Tarth. 

The barista crossed into Tywin’s line of sight, blocking his view of the tall blonde from the Stormlands currently over-viewing the museum’s security protocols. “Everything alright?” 

“The tea is weak and carries little flavour.” Tywin pushed the cup across the table. “I do not wish for a replacement.” 

The young man fumbled for a response; inevitably settling on removing the cup – and himself – from Tywin’s eye-line. _There. _His view of Brienne Tarth was restored. He hadn’t thought much of the woman at first glance: homely, tall, doing her best to fade into the background of the chief curator’s office. Tywin had been present to settle a dispute between the museum and his thirteen-year-old grandson: the dark-haired terror had removed a sword from display and started poking the other patrons. 

The curator had done everything short of lick his boots to make things right. Brienne Tarth was the only one who stood up for museum policy, and had the _gall _to suggest that the Lannisters pay for the restoration of Widow’s Wail. Tywin had known two things in that moment: one, the curator would have to be removed; Tywin didn’t care for a man with no spine, and two, Brienne Tarth would marry his son, Jaime. 

_Right on cue. _As anticipated, his eldest son and heir swanned through the doors of the museum. Like Tywin, his eyes were immediately drawn to the blonde discussing matters with security guard Snow. They’d met three nights before, when Tywin had invited her to inspect a Lannister family heirloom. As expected, she and Jaime had _not _got along. 

“Doctor Tarth, what have you done with my sword?” 

She initialled on a clipboard, and handed it to Snow. Brienne barely gave Jaime the time of day, which Tywin knew would infuriate his son immensely. He was used to people falling all over him, but not her. “Mister Lannister, _Oathkeeper _was donated by your father to the museum. I know—”

“—you know _nothing. _That sword wasn’t my father’s to donate. It was an inheritance by my grandfather and I would quite like to see it back in my possession.” 

“So you can hang it on your bedroom wall; the only people getting to admire it being whatever women are _stupid _enough to let you charm them?” 

“Believe me, _Doctor Tarth, _the day I find a woman interested in my antique sword is the day I tell my father I’m getting married.” 

Tywin Lannister did not smile. But the corners of his mouth _may _have twitched. Brienne Tarth, however, was doing neither. “Well, now that your sword is in _my_ possession, I will gladly accept the thank you card from the future Mrs Jaime Lannister saving her from your _arrogant _arse.” 

Brienne Tarth quickly moved out of sight, yet their argument continued to echo in the museum’s foyer. Tywin summoned the barista and ordered a black coffee. _So it begins. _


	35. "Babes" - Queen!Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi! Would you consider giving us some paragraphs from 'missing' scenes of Queen!Brienne? I know you planned to write the feast and we only got a glimpse of it in retelling, maybe you have something stashed away? Or any other 'lost' bit you'd want to share? Or a brief glance at the two dorks from outsider POV, such as Blackfish or Olenna, at any point in time? No worries if not! Thank you as always." (scoundrels-in-love)

Lord Commander Tully piped up, slipping a piece of parchment from his sleeve. “Earlier today, I received word from my niece Catelyn. She has finally arrived at Winterfell. The babe, Robb, is doing well. Lord Stark is also at Winterfell, and Robert’s bastard Jon is with him also.”

_Rhaegar’s bastard. _Still, no one seemed to question Ned’s deception, as Robert had several bastard children already. His brothers seemed to think Ned foolhardy for taking this babe in, as many surely did. _Better to be thought a fool than a man without honour. _Robb Stark was the first noble new-born since Brienne had taken the throne, and it was traditional for the Crown to send a gift to the child. No gifts had been sent to Tarth upon her birth; the scent of tragedy at Lady Tarth’s passing thick in the air. She had little guidance as to what to send.

So, Brienne turned to her Hand for advice. “Ser Jaime, what did King Aerys send your father to celebrate your birth?”

“The weight of my sister and me in gold.”

At the other end of the table, Lady Olenna coughed. “Hopefully you weren’t a chubby baby, boy.”

Jaime put down his quill and was about to engage in yet _another _battle of wills with Olenna, when Brienne placed her hand firmly atop his. They were supposed to bringing peace to the Kingdoms, not engaging in war between themselves. 

“_Perhaps _gold is not appropriate, considering our finances. We need to be spending gold on repairing the damage caused by the war, not sending pounds worth of gold to already rich lords.” Brienne pursed her lips, before settling on a strategy. “Ser Jaime, make a note to send young Robb a wooden sword to celebrate his birth. When he comes of age, I will send him one made of steel.”

“A wise gift from a Warrior Queen.” Jaime wrote down her suggestion. Brienne tapped the table twice, a code to none but them, and Jaime made a note to send a wooden sword to Lyanna Stark’s babe, too. “Any other business?”


	36. "Spread" - Billboard AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Holy guacamole! Could I convince you to gift us with more of that Jaime/the billboard (aka Brienne the model) story. Pleaaaaase." (anonymous)

Jaime kept dreaming about the billboard. 

Some of the dreams were as you’d expect: she’d be in his office, waiting in nothing more than a trench coat and lingerie. Jaime would barely have to say a word and her fingers would be on his zipper and her mouth around his cock. He’d woken up on more than one occasion stiff and aching. Twice he’d already spent himself across his belly. Those were the days he closed those damn blinds. 

Other dreams were more _domestic _in nature. Between his work load and family name, Jaime struggled with long term relationships. The model, _Blue Eyes, _didn’t concern herself with how late he was home and how much money the Lannisters had. There would be takeout and cuddling on his sofa; they’d watch historical documentaries and she’d laugh as he told her increasingly ridiculous stories of his youth at Casterly Rock. 

Those were the days Jaime raided his chocolate box by noon. 

One day, six weeks after the billboard advertising _Golden Rose _lingerie went up outside his office, Jaime came in to find an ad for _Baelish’s Used Cars _instead_. _Petyr Baelish’s grimace sent Jaime’s empty stomach churning, and he immediately hit the blinds. 

When Pia came in two hours later, Jaime asked a very unusual request. “Could you please find out who is responsible for the billboard across the street, and get me their telephone number?” 

“Of course, Mister Lannister. I saw they changed it. To be honest, I’d prefer the ugly woman in her underwear.” 

Jaime snapped the pencil he was using to make initials on his spreadsheets. “Just the number, please, Pia.” 

Within an hour she had it, and Jaime was on the phone to the advertising company who leased the space. _“This is Jon, head of purchasing, how can I help?”_

_“_You changed the billboard outside my office this morning. I work at Lannister Holdings.” 

Jaime hoped throwing his name around would…do what, exactly? Get the billboard back? It was likely already papered over. Perhaps he could pay for another cycle of advertisement; another six weeks of Blue Eyes staring at him from across the street. In truth, there was very little the advertising firm could do. _Golden Rose _were the people who had hired, shot, and displayed the model. Did he want her name? Did Jaime want the real her, when his fantasy was so _utterly _beguiling?

“I’m sorry, what would you like us to do, sir?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

He was about to put the phone down when _Jon _interrupted. “Look, if it’s about the model…one of our staff, here, Tormund, he’s a bit of a fan. Same model’s in the new issue of _Ice and Fire. _Just in case you were interested.” 

Jaime ended the call. Looked at his phone, at his computer screen. Then at his coat, and wallet, and then at the door as he was yelling at Pia that he was _going out for a while _and to _hold my calls. _There was a newsagent on the corner of the street, and Jaime practically ran all the way there. He skimmed the racks of magazines until he found the one he was after, slammed a ten dragon note down upon the counter, and retreated to his _locked _office. 

Same blue eyes. Same wisps of blonde hair. Tan lingerie with sheer cups and little straps that Jaime’s tongue could move aside whilst he left kiss after kiss to her creamy skin. The angle of the photograph made it look as if the viewer was above her. Jaime leaning over her, warm hands on her waist, slowly thrusting inside of her. Wanting Blue Eyes too much to undress her; wanting to make it _last _too much to take her quickly. 

The intercom buzz just as Jaime finished. He grabbed a couple of tissues, the self-hatred slowly creeping in, and replied to his assistant. 


	37. "Fiance" - Arranged Marriage AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Two photos that I’m really hoping might fit with the modern arranged marriage AU?? In my head Brienne in that universe is a mix of both practical hands-on and academic historian, hence the first image of her in her (small, filled with shelves of books and artifacts?) office. And then second image in the same universe, some sort of museum fundraiser. I’m basically just shamelessly wanting more of anything in that universe and hoping that picture prompts might help =’D" (ice-connoisseur)

If there was _one _benefit to her forced marriage to Jaime Lannister, it was that her move to King’s Landing brought her closer to her friends. Brienne could count on one hand how often she’d seen Margaery, Renly, and Robb since she’d moved home to Tarth to take up the curatorship at Evenfall Hall. But now she was back on the mainland, she could enjoy an evening of cocktails, appetisers, and hearing the _amazing _lives her friends were getting up to. 

Stepping inside the restaurant, Brienne waved to the group. Robb waved back. Renly frowned. Margaery just gasped. “_Brienne Tarth, what is that on your finger?”_

_Oh. That. _As if she could have forgotten the giant ruby set inside a gold band that now sat upon her finger. “I’m…_I’m engaged.”_

Cries of joy erupted from the table. Margaery immediately wrapped her arms around her, before dragging her to sit and _dish. _Renly looked dumbfounded; unable to shift his gaze from the engagement ring on her left hand. His boyfriend, Loras, refused to look at her. Thankfully Robb and his wife seemed more than happy to share in her good news. 

_My father feared I’d die alone, so he’s guilting me into marrying Jaime Lannister. _

“So, who is it? Do we know him? Where is he? Is he coming tonight?” 

Margaery was just full of questions that Brienne had few answers to. “He’s—” _What? _Jaime hadn’t even been at their newly furbished home, an _engagement _gift from her father-in-law, when she’d got in from the museum. She hadn’t thought to ask him; hadn’t even planned to wear the ring until she remembered she was contractually obliged to. Now Loras was looking at her, sensing blood in the water. _Fuck. _“He’s running a little late; I’ll just call him.”

Stepping away from the table, Brienne found her phone and scrolled through the directory until she found _J. Lannister. _She pressed _call. _Jaime answered on the second ring. “_Brienne, is everything okay? You–you never call me.”_

“I’m at dinner with some university friends, and they’re asking questions about the ring, and the engagement.” Brienne sighed, keeping her voice low so she couldn’t be overheard by passing patrons. “Jaime, I need you to pretend you’re my fiance.”

“_Brienne, I _am _your fiance.” _His voice was so soft. She still recalled his refusal to end their engagement after they’d met for the second time. Not because of his father’s ultimatum, but because he _liked _her. Brienne was still working out how she felt. “_Send me the address, I’ll be there as soon as I can_.”

A quick text with the name and address of the restaurant, and Brienne slipped her phone back into her pocket. Margaery had already ordered her a cocktail; no doubt _desperate _to hear the juicy details of Brienne’s betrothal. Over the years, Brienne had had little luck dating. There had been no changes to her relationship status; no interesting stories to share at these emotional potlucks. A part of Brienne wanted to say _I’m engaged to the most beautiful man in Westeros, and it’s legally binding that at some point we’ll have to make love. _

Another part – the louder part – knew that there was only so much she _could _share. The _arranged _part of their engagement, the lengthy contract and clauses, would make her more of a laughing stock than she already was. 

A minor crisis with Robb’s babysitter distracted the group for a round, and then they were back to Brienne. Margaery, as if sensing her friend’s discomfort, started out slow. “What’s his name?”

“Jaime.” At the back of the table, Loras laughed. “What’s funny about that?”

“No, _no, _nothing, Brienne. It’s just Jaime _Lannister _walked in at the exact time you said that.”

Brienne turned on her chair and caught Jaime’s eye across the restaurant. He offered her a brief wave, before passing patrons and waitstaff to join them. Jaime looked…_'like a god’ _was too weak a description. He was wearing a white t-shirt with tailored jeans; a lazy smile that made her stomach clench. His hair was wet from a shower and he immediately bent his head to kiss her when he reached their table. Soft, firm lips; he kissed her like he’d kissed her a thousand times. 

This was their third kiss. 

Head spinning, lost in the sensation of Jaime’s touch and the scent of his body wash, Brienne said the first thing that came to mind. “You smell good.”

“_Good.” _Jaime kissed her again, this time on the burgeoning flush on her cheeks. He turned to the stunned group. “Have we got a spare chair? I don’t mind sitting on Brienne’s lap all night, but she might.” 


	38. "Touch" - Brienne thinks Jaime is a prostitute (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "PARAGRAPH PROMPT - please something for Idea of the Day: (..) Brienne visits a brothel in a moment of weakness.(..) Missing a hand and dumped by his sister, Jaime agrees to return home with Tyrion and his wife. One afternoon, his brother takes him to a brothel in his idea of helping. A miscommunication over rooms sees the tallest woman Jaime’s ever seen enter his, and think he’s a whore. Unlike his sister, she is not repulsed by Jaime’s recent maiming, and sees no harm in playing along." (anonymous)

Jaime sat, staring at his golden hand, as he waited for the whore his brother had paid to arrive. This was not his idea; Jaime would have been _much _happier back at Casterly Rock practicing with his squire. But Tyrion had _insisted. ‘You need to step out from under this cloud, Brother’, _he’d said after far too many goblets of wine. ‘_They do say the best way to get over one woman is to get under another’. _Of course, the woman in this case was their sister. Upon his return to King’s Landing, missing a hand after being kidnapped during his escape attempt, Cersei had made it clear she had no intention of ever touching him again. 

He did not know whether it was his missing hand, or his urgent need to be touched after so long with so little, that had driven her away. 

When his brother returned with his new bride to Lannisport, Jaime had gone with him. No more white cloak, no more golden twin. Just one hand and enough money to pay for the best whore in Lannisport. 

The door opened. Jaime expected a lithe blonde to step forward; clad in silks and little else. He did not expect the tallest, broadest woman he had ever seen, with short blonde hair and a ruddy complexion. She wore no silks; rather a blue tunic fraying over one elbow. Upon seeing him, she frowned. “Are you–are you for _me_?” 

Another paying customer. Jaime wasn’t surprised; with that face, this woman was probably used to paying for it. “Does it _look _like I’m for you?” 

He was Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. He was not a common whore. To say nothing of his current physique: gone were his golden lion days, when women would flock and flail all over him. The most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms found him repulsive. Surely a woman, even as ugly as this one, would find him the same. 

“I–I thought they’d find me someone homely. Someone more like—” She bowed her head. “You’re _far _too beautiful.” 

Jaime barked out a laugh. He raised his right arm and waved the golden hand in her face. “Are you blind?” 

“No. You’re _rude, _though_.” _She crumpled before his eyes; shoulders sagging and arms crossing over herself. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have–I just wanted to be—”

“—touched?” The woman nodded. Jaime looked at her more closely. She was tall, perhaps even taller than him. Thick thighs; strong arms. Blue eyes that made him squirm. Whoever this woman was, she was the furthest thing from Cersei. _She’d let you touch her, this one. _“Close the door. Come here.” 

She stumbled forward, standing in front of him. His left hand reached out and brushed the jut of her hip. She shivered, breathing growing heavy. “Sorry. No one’s ever touched me before.” 

“Don’t apologise. I’ve only ever been with one person myself.”

She raised both eyebrows. “Were you a concubine, then?” 

Jaime spluttered, finding himself nodding along. “I suppose I was. She dismissed me when I lost my hand fighting in the war. Was no good to her, then.” 

The woman wet her lips. Pink and plump and Jaime struggled to remember how long it had been since he’d been kissed; since a tongue had pressed against the seam of his mouth. Stark was still alive, then. Back when Jaime was his sister’s concubine; not permitted a life of his own, only called when she wanted him, only _loved _when she wanted to. Jaime had no idea what had driven this woman to seek comfort in this whorehouse, or what mix-up had led her to believe that he was her companion for the next hour, afternoon, _whatever. _But he was glad she had. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Brienne.” 

Jaime smiled, rising to his feet. He slid his left hand against her cheek, and keened as she leant into his touch. “Well, Brienne, I’m going to fuck you. Would you like that?” 

He would. He really, _really _would.


	39. "Sleepover" - Jaime is Brienne's nanny (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "kid fic modern au jb? if you're still accepting prompts obvs" (anonymous"

The timer went on Jaime’s phone. _Feeding time. _

Picking himself up off his bed (a single, with a Lannisport City duvet cover; a far cry from his former penthouse or his family home), Jaime went two doors down and entered the nursery. Brandon was just starting to stir, and he’d soon be crying out for a bottle. Jaime lifted him easily into his arms, rocked him gently, and took the back stairs down to the kitchen; desperately hoping to miss the sleepover happening in the lounge. 

The giggles and shrieks hit Jaime as soon as his foot touched the last step. Brandon gurgled in his arms. “Just you and me, boy, and a house full of girls.” He caught sight of one of said girls almost instantly. “Not that there’s anything _wrong _with that, of course.” 

His employer, Doctor Brienne Tarth, shook her head. “Save it. If I have to hear another word about some Dornish pop band or some tv star from _King’s Landing High, _I’m going to fall on my sword.” 

“Well, we’ve certainly got plenty of them hanging on the walls. At least they’re having a good time.” 

Brienne looked over her shoulder at the slightly ajar lounge door, and the gaggle of girls having the best night ever. Jaime knew she’d been worried about the kids. Sansa, Arya, and Brandon had all been the children of Brienne’s former department head and close friend. After her death, Brienne had been granted custody when their Aunt was deemed unfit. With three children under nine, and now head of the history department, Brienne couldn’t cope. 

Enter Jaime Lannister, nanny extraordinaire. 

He balanced Brandon in one arm as he reached for the refrigerator, and the bottle inside. Brienne frowned. “I should be doing that.”

“We agreed: you handle the sleepover, I take care of my boy Brandon.” He put the bottle in the microwave. “Did you want something to drink? I could get the hard stuff?” 

“Hard stuff?”

Jaime reached under the kitchen island and slammed down a bottle of juice. “Double concentrate. It’ll knock your socks off.” 

Brienne laughed. Jaime _loved _her laugh; it was as singular as she was. He loved her smile too; it made those beautiful blue eyes of hers brighten like a clear summers day. He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking of his boss in such _positive _terms, but Jaime was thanking himself each and every day for turning down that job at the Hetherspoon house in favour of the Tarth residence. 

The microwave dinged. Jaime dabbed some of the formula on the inside of his arm and waited for it to cool. “So, what are the girls watching anyway?” 

“Two films; the second is a historical feature, _actually.” _Jaime was surprised. He thought they’d be watching something with a teen heartthrob who couldn’t act. “About one of the bloody battles at Harenhal.” 

Jaime frowned, thought, and then cleared his throat. He tried not to smirk. “Harrenhal Bloodbath?” 

Brienne’s shoulders sagged. “It’s a horror movie, isn’t it?” 

“Yep.” 

Brienne jumped off the barstool and rushed into the lounge. Hopefully, they hadn’t reached any of the explicit nudity, or the opening kill. Jaime tested the bottle again and, satisfied, began feeding Brandon. He waited for Brienne’s return, accompanied by Arya’s yelling that they wouldn’t get scared. Considering Jaime’s room was right next to the girls, he was in full support of them watching something with royal princesses and animated dragons. 

She returned and slumped against the kitchen island. “Shots. I need shots. You in?” 

“Chocolate milk in the fridge door.” 

Brienne gave him a thumbs up, retrieved two shot glasses from the cupboard, and poured them both some chocolate milk. The glasses clinked, and Jaime was fundamentally glad Brienne was the guardian of a seven-month-old. There were many, _many _years he would be required at the Tarth family home. 


	40. "0800 6969" - Jaime runs a phone sex line (Modern AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would you maybe write something for this one? Please?! "Cut off from his father, Jaime dabbles at a phone sex line as he enjoys talking dirty. His favourite customer is an innocent blonde who comes to the sound of his voice."" (anonymous)

It was late, and Jaime Lannister had slept all day. Since his father had cut him off, his life had changed dramatically. Gone was the penthouse; the state-of-the-art electronics and million dragon view. Instead, Jaime was staying in a cheap apartment in Storm’s End where the walls shook every time there was a clap of thunder. No more three-piece suits; Jaime spent most of his time in soft pants and the occasional t-shirt. He’d been offered numerous jobs from his father’s competitors, but Jaime wanted the time to figure out what _he _wanted to do with his life. 

To pay the bills, Jaime took up a job at a phone sex line. 

Shae, one of the strippers at Tyrion’s home-away-from-home, had given him the hook-up. Jaime had always enjoyed talking dirty with his girlfriends; liked working them both up with his words until they were wet and desperate. The money was good, he could work from home, and it felt the ultimate _fuck you _to his father. 

Jaime had just got a drink of water when his first call of the evening came in. “This is Jaime. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?” 

“Brienne.” A fumble on the other end of the line. “Shit; I wasn’t going to say my real name. Can I start again?” 

He chuckled softly. A first-timer. Cute. “I can call you anything you like, Sweetling. Blue Eyes, Brown Eyes…” Jaime caught sight of the book he was reading; a historical account of female knights in Ancient Westeros by Doctor B Tarth. “Wench?” 

“Brienne is fine.” 

Jaime got the Bluetooth headset attached and laid down against the rumpled sheets. “I’m sure you are.” 

“I’m–I’m really not.” 

_Ah. _He knew the type. Little dating experience but too shy to pay for a whore, so they paid for him instead. A tidy compromise. “Brienne, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You’re not with some half-brained man tonight, you’re with me. And there are_ no_ men like me. If I want you, _I want you.” _He wet his top lip. “And I want you.” 

A huff of air echoed on the line. “You’re really good, aren’t you?” 

“I’m the best, Brienne. Let’s not worry about what you look like. I’m more interested in what you’re wearing.” 

“Bit of a cliche, isn’t it?” _Oh, _she was going to make him work for it. Her discomfort had turned to criticism. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re in some boxer briefs or an expensive suit.” 

“Nope,” he said, the last syllable popping. “I’m in soft pants, with no underwear, and no shirt.” He felt Brienne would relax with some honesty. “I ran out of laundry detergent, and it makes my cock easier to grasp. What about you?” 

A pause. “A t-shirt. And men’s boxers.” Another pause, as if she was working towards a confession. “I don’t like a lot of women’s pyjamas. They’re too small; too lacy. I’m too big. Too–too tall.” 

“How tall are you?”

“Six foot three.” 

_Fuck. _“You’re taller than I am.”

She sighed. “Doesn’t surprise me.” 

What surprised him was how his cock stirred at the thought. He’d always enjoyed a good set of legs on a woman, and he bet Brienne had a fantastic pair. “I’m thinking of your legs wrapped around me, Brienne. I’m thinking of how easy it would be to fuck you standing up if we’re about the same height.” 

What followed was a series of stuttered breaths, and Jaime knew he had her. 


	41. "Press Conference" - Rival Coaches (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaime and Brienne are coaches for two rival teams. The competition is fierce… The se.xual tension? Fiercer.” (melancholicnotions)

_“And that’s the whistle. Tarth FC 2, Lannisport City, 1.”_

Half the stadium erupted into cheers; a flurry of blue waving banners and flags as their team leapt to victory. The roars from the Lannisport side were gone; the banners in red and gold still. On one side of the pitch, coach Brienne Tarth felt her body erupt in goosebumps. The fans were cheering _Tarth, Tarth, Tarth _and they might as well have been cheering for her. Across the other side, Jaime Lannister threw his clipboard to the ground. 

He shot a glance across the pitch, and Brienne offered him a wave. _Ar/se. _

Eleven warm bodies hit hers; their new signing – Arya Stark – soon lifted up on someone’s shoulders. The odds had been against them. A mixed team with a freshman coach, against last year’s Football Trust Cup winners, and the fearsome Jaime Lannister? But they’d underestimated Brienne all her life. When she’d played in the park; when she’d gone to train at the local stadium; when she’d been signed to Tarth FC many a year ago. When she’d stood in front of that goal and cut Jaime Lannister, his last game as a player, to the quick. 

What happened next was a blur. Brienne distinctly recalled a talk in the locker room before the publicist herded them outside for a press conference. Arya, as player of the match, would have her own. Brienne was hustled into a chair in front of thirty assembled members of the Westeros press. Beside her? Jaime Lannister. 

“Jaime, Jaime! What do you think went wrong out there for you today?” 

Jaime adjusted his red and gold tie; his ever-present three-piece suit looking impeccable despite sitting through ninety hair-raising minutes. “I wouldn’t say anything went wrong for us today. Ms Tarth and her side were…_lucky.” _

Brienne knew better, after her first press conference with Lannister, to bite back at his blatant bait. Instead, she waited for one of the journalists to ask a follow-up. “I disagree with Mister Lannister; we weren’t lucky, we were _good. _Better than his side, for sure.” 

“Jaime, do you think it’s time for the all-men Lannisport side to diversify? It’s certainly seemed to work for Tarth FC.” 

“Maybe I’ll start scouting in the North; that’s certainly seemed to help Tarth FC.” 

_Ha. _Football pundit Ned Stark _loathed _the Lannisters, and the North followed his lead. Lannisport hadn’t signed a player higher than the Riverlands in decades. 

Another journalist raised his hand. Jaime, having more experience with the press, directed the questions. “Yes?” 

“Brienne Tarth is one of only three defenders to ever unseat you when going for the goal, Jaime, and that includes Ser Arthur Dayne. Any resentment that your losing streak with Brienne Tarth continues into your second job?” 

Margaery Tyrell, a sports reporter who Brienne had become quite friendly with, returned to her seat. Numerous lights flashed in their face as they captured the jut of Jaime Lannister’s jaw, and Brienne doing her best not to smile. 

“No comment.” 

Another journalist raised his hand. Throwing a grin to the arrogant man beside her, Brienne took that one. “Mister Hunt?”

“For all your rivalry, what would you say to comments that you two are very much alike? You both started playing for your home teams, you both reached the finals in the FT cup. You’re both now back coaching your home teams, of which your fathers either partially own or do so outright. Any thoughts?”

“Like _him_?

“I am _nothing _like her!”

The cameras flashed in both their faces. The look they threw each other – barely held contempt – was on the front of numerous sports pages the next day. 


	42. "Coach Jaime" - Coach!Jaime/Single Parent!Brienne (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Obsessed with the coach Jaime AU idea. Can I bribe you with cheesecake?" (anonymous)

Before the accident, five pm usually meant the end of her afternoon classes. She and Catelyn would retreat to her office for tea, curriculum discussion, and a catch-up on what Catelyn’s children were up to. Brienne had found a home at Winterfell University and with the Starks; in no small part thanks to Catelyn. _After _the accident, Brienne had felt obligated to step in and take care of Sansa and Arya; still grieving the death of their father and now their mother and brother, too. 

A fresh start was what they needed, and Tarth brought all those things. 

Five pm now meant Brienne had to finish her work taking care of Evenfall Hall and Museum. She’d help Sansa and Arya with their homework whilst Brienne’s father cooked; Goodwin and his wife popping round on Thursdays to play cards with the girls. Today’s five pm carried a new meaning: picking Arya up from football practice. Grabbing her keys and purse (as if there was a soul on the island who did not know Brienne Tarth or her father), Brienne headed for the door. 

“I’ll be back soon; do I need to pick up anything from the shop?” 

“We’re out of garlic!” Sansa called back from the stove as she and Selwyn stirred tonight’s dinner.

“I’ll bring back Arya and garlic, then.” And she was out the door. 

Evenfall Primary was the only junior school on this side of the island, and literally, _every _child went through its doors (including Brienne). Goodwin had been the PE teacher in her day, and had been replaced by Coach Jaime six months before Brienne and the girls had moved to the Stormlands. She had yet to meet him, but Arya _raved _about how good he was with a football. Hopefully, he wasn’t too hard on Arya; Brienne still had concerns on how well the girls were coping. 

Brienne arrived just as practice finished. Many other parents were loitering around; a lot of mothers Brienne remembered from her year in school or the year below. Most were in heels digging into the muddy ground; in tailored pants or skirts completely unsuitable for the Stormlands weather. Elegantly painted faces and coiffed hair made Brienne feel like more of an ogre than usual.

A whistle blew. “Right, that’s it for today, kids!” 

Thirteen children traipsed across the muddy pitch to their parents or guardians, leaving Coach Jaime standing by the goalposts. It was cold, and it had begun to drizzle with rain, but he wore shorts and a Lannisport City football shirt. His _legs…_Brienne turned her head sharply at the other goal rather than leer at the muscular thighs of Arya’s PE teacher. 

Suddenly a hand was tugging on hers. Brienne looked down at her seven-year-old charge; unsure where the mud ended and the girl began. Behind Arya was a firmly built physique of muscle ending in a face similar to the front pages of the teen magazines Sansa liked to read. 

“You’re Arya’s guardian, right? I’m Coach Jaime.” 

His hair was golden, slightly damp from the rain. Eyes bottle green and the warmest thing in the bitter outdoors. Coach Jaime was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He belonged on a runway, not on a muddy football pitch at a primary school. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Well, I wanted to apologise.” He patted his hands on Arya’s shoulders. “She made an _incredible _tackle today, but your washing machine is going to pay the price.”

“It’s fine,” she said, trying to look at Arya’s grubby face rather than at the sharp features of Coach Jaime. “I–I used to come back in a similar state when I was her age.” 

“Okay. Good.” Coach Jaime ran a hand through his hair; the strands getting damper by the second. “_Oh, _there’s practice on Saturday morning. Just to let you know.” 

“Thanks. If I can’t take Arya, my Dad will.” 

His smile faltered slightly. The rain was probably annoying him; it always got to the non-locals eventually. “Great. Hopefully, I’ll see you there.”

One of the other parents caught Coach Jaime’s attention, then, and Brienne hustled Arya off the pitch and onto the newspaper on the backseat of her car. Before she pulled away, Brienne stared out the window at the departing form of Coach Jaime. _Hopefully, I’ll see you there. _Brienne needed to send her father on Saturday morning; keep the gorgeous coach at a considerable distance. She knew herself, knew her type. A few soft words and polite smiles, and Brienne would be falling all over herself like the other women here. 

Brienne was raising two children and trying to keep tourism alive on Tarth. She didn’t have time for impossible crushes. 


	43. "Number" - Jaime and Brienne are rival CEOs (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompt: J&B are the CEO's of their respective companies (something like apple vs microsoft). For years they've been trying to one-up the other, but they're always neck and neck. Their lives are dedicated to their work & being on top, and have little time for anything else. Obviously, they can't stand each other, and love nothing more than drag the other. It's been like this for years... until Brienne brings a bf to a gala & Jaime isn't happy about it, and decides to let her know." (anonymous)

Jaime slid open the study doors with ease and walked the few paces towards the solid oak desk. Lion heads were carved into both the desk and chair; a crimson cushion pressing against Jaime’s back as he sat down. He reached for a small jotter pad with the Lannister Holdings emblem, and then his cheque book. He wrote a number down, folded the paper, and slid it across to Hyle Hunt. 

“That should be more than enough.” 

Hyle opened the paper and snorted. “Please. I’ll get twice that in a divorce settlement.” 

Jaime frowned, checked there was no one hovering by the door, and wrote a second number. Hopefully, this would be enough to see Hyle Hunt gone for _good. _Jaime had considered his presence a joke at the annual museum fundraiser two months ago. An annoyance at the Baratheon social three weeks before. Tonight, at the Warrior’s Day party at Casterly Rock, he was a problem that needed a solution. 

And Jaime’s solution, as it was for all Lannisters, was to throw money at it. “Here.” 

That brought a smile to Hunt’s face. “You know, if you want to fuck her, I’m sure she’d let you. She’s desperate enough.” 

It was his party. Beating a guest to death would be unseemly. “Take the money. Get out of her life. I see you with her again, I will _ruin_ you.” 

Jaime scrawled a cheque with _far _too many zeros, signed it, and thrust it into Hyle’s waiting hand. The cretin would disappear, no doubt Tarth would be upset, but that was _her _problem, not Jaime’s. He’d handled his end of this. Standing, Jaime went to the wet bar and poured himself a large whiskey. He drained it as soon as the doors closed. He was pouring a second when they opened again. 

“Final offer, Hunt. I won’t pay you another dragon.” 

“How many dragons did you pay him?” 

_Fuck. _Jaime took a sip, turned, and raised his glass to Brienne Tarth. “Drink?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He made a second drink. “You should be _thanking _me, Tarth. I saved your company, your Father, from the embarrassment of a messy divorce. Be grateful the money came out of _our _considerable accounts and not your own.” 

Jaime handed Tarth her drink. She threw it in his face. He laughed, sluicing the aged whiskey from his features. “You’re welcome?” 

“My personal life has _nothing _to do with you, Jaime Lannister. Who I date has _nothing _to do with you.” Brienne crossed her arms over the stomach of the black dress she wore; the hem cutting across her thighs. Jaime stole a glance at her incredible legs before looking back at her disapproving scowl. “Was it really worth all that money to hurt me so?” 

He shrugged. “I overheard him in the bathroom saying he was only with you for the money. Fancy gifts; expensive dinners. If he could put a ring on your finger, it would be the easiest money he’s ever made. You’d have been hurt, and you would’ve hated him.” Jaime took a sip of his drink. “Perhaps I’m selfish, but I rather like being the person you hate most in this world.” 

Lannister Holdings and Tarth Limited had been rivals since before Jaime had ever been born. As their father’s heirs, _they _had been rivals since Brienne’s birth. Save for a period during university when both enjoyed their _rebellious _phase (and Jaime could personally attest to Brienne both letting him, and not being desperate), they had hated each other all their lives. Especially when both had risen to the role of VP, and taken on the hotel and resort aspects of their respective companies. 

Their game of oneupmanship got Jaime’s blood pumping. They were in contact most days; shouting and sniping in text if not on the phone. She racked up the most messages and minutes on his phone plan; the doorman knew her personally from all the times she had come up to confront him. Tarth Limited’s office had even got him a key card because the security guard couldn’t _take _another argument over intercom. 

He _needed _to be the person Brienne hated most in this world. She _was _his world. 


	44. "Queen" - George of the Jungle AU (Movie Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my god Brienne of the jungle please! It sounds so awesome." (anonymous)

Jaime’s fiancé was currently locked up in a Stormlands prison, and there was an island maiden asleep on his balcony so she could see the stars and listen to the sound of the Lannisport harbour. What Jaime _really _needed right now was a best friend. In lieu of that, his brother, Tyrion, would have to suffice. He messaged his brother early the following morning, and within seconds Jaime had a response. As quickly as Tyrion could travel from the family estate to Jaime’s penthouse in the city, there was a knock at the door. 

He threw it open. “Tyrion.”

“Brother. I came as quickly as I could. Where is she?” 

“She’s in the shower.”

Tyrion cleared his throat. “Not anymore.”

Jaime snapped his head in the direction Tyrion was looking and came face-to-face with a very naked, a very _wet _Brienne. His jaw fell open. _Fuck. _He’d been witness to those long legs in the dense undergrowth of Tarth; muscular limbs and powerful thighs. He had _not _seen the thatch of blonde curls; nor her small breasts and pink, round nipples. Jaime swallowed as Brienne ran a hand through slick blonde hair. 

“Br–Brienne?” 

“The waterfall. It was cool, and then it was _hot, _and there was no lye soap to wash myself with. There was a green _goo _that smelled like the fruits back on Tarth.” His shower gel. Brienne would smell like apples all day, now. And _him. _His house guest finally noticed his brother; her face splitting into a smile as she waved. “Hello. I’m Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.”

All of Tyrion’s name days had come at once. “The pleasure is _all _mine.” 

Jaime stepped in front of his brother, not caring for the way he was ogling Brienne. Whilst spitting a prayer that Tyrion had not brought his driver Bronn up with him, Jaime went about covering his rescuer from view. A book on the knights of Westeros was placed in front of Brienne’s crotch. The checked shirt Jaime wore over a vest was pulled from his shoulders and draped over Brienne’s front to hide her breasts. A replica shield covered Brienne’s firm buttocks. 

“Come on, let’s find you something to wear.” 

“What about—”

“—_no, _the loincloth and tunic are not appropriate in my jungle.” _Half-tunic, _really, as Jaime had seen Brienne’s toned stomach and muscular arms in the dense forests of Tarth, as well as her long legs. He rubbed his face and hustled Brienne back into the depths of his apartment. “Sorry, Brother!”

“Take your time.” Tyrion chuckled to himself. “Not my type, but I can _certainly _see why they made her Queen of the Jungle.” 


	45. "Back Seat" - Brienne escorts Jaime to King's Landing (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "okay here's the prompt because I don't know if it is written yet and even if it is you should write it: modern jb au where brienne is driving jaime along the kings road and he's handcuffed to the backseat of her car" (remuslovestonks)

Two guards escorted Jaime Lannister from the station. Whatever Brienne had been expecting from the man suspected of killing the former Prime Minister, _this _wasn’t it. He wore tailored jeans and boots; a dark tee and a black leather jacket. Stubble, dark-blonde hair, painfully aware green eyes. Jaime Lannister looked like he should be walking along a catwalk rather than standing in front of her in handcuffs. 

He winked at Brienne before turning to Catelyn Tully-Stark, head of the Crown Prosecution Service in the North. “Is this where we part company, Cat? _Shame.”_

“It will be if your family has the information we need. If not, you’ll be spending winter in the North with us.” 

“I’ll make sure to pack my mittens for the return trip.” Lannister looked behind Catelyn to Brienne; his eyes moving up her legs and the long length of her torso. “No armoured car? No set of seven guards?” 

“She will get you to King’s Landing. And back again, if required.” 

“It’s a long drive.” Lannister grinned salaciously; mocking her even as he stood in chains. “More than enough time to get to know each other.” 

For the first time since Lannister had been brought out, Brienne spoke. She turned not to him, but to Catelyn. “I’ll secure the car.” 

Brienne left Catelyn and Lannister to their verbal sparring match and prepared herself for the long journey ferrying Jaime Lannister to his family in King’s Landing. She threw her backpack in the boot of the standard City Guard vehicle; double-checking the emergency kit and spare tire. She then removed anything in the backseat that could be used as a weapon against her. Finally, Brienne helped the guards secure Lannister in the back seat. His feet were shackled to the floor; his arms shackled to the seat in front. A wire mesh divided the front and back. 

Before she got in the driver’s seat, Brienne exchanged a nod with Catelyn. She then closed the door, turned the ignition, and pulled away from the station. 

For about thirty seconds, all was quiet. And then, “My name’s Jaime. Jaime Lannister; son of Tywin. He’s the CEO of Lannister Holdings.” 

“I know who your father is.” Everyone in Westeros knew. 

Lannister leant as forward as his shackles would allow. “This would be the part where you’d tell me your name.” 

“It’s not important.” 

“It’s a long drive to King’s Landing. Especially if we don’t take the King’s road. We’re not taking the motorway, are we?” 

“Leave the arrangements to me, Lannister. Just sit back, _shut up, _and you’ll be home soon.”

The backseat was visible in the rearview mirror; Lannister mimed zipping his lips. Another moment of peace. And then, “If I guessed your name, would you tell me? Is it Jeyne? Is it Lysa? Is it…Nymeria?” 

It was going to be a long, _long _drive from Winterfell to King’s Landing. Quicker if they took the King’s road, but Brienne had plotted a route that took them through small villages and country lanes. No CCTV; easier to spot a tail. They would have to either sleep in her car or find a bed-and-breakfast that took cash. They’d have to ditch this car at some point, too; Catelyn had made it very clear that no one was to be trusted. 

It would not be easy, but she would do it. Brienne wouldn’t fail anyone else. She wouldn’t let anyone else _die. _


	46. "Wallflower" - Jaime hosts a ball (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was thinking about it last night, but what if instead of Renly, Jaime danced with her at that ball? Or, at least ALSO danced with her? If it takes you to some writing space, would love a paragraph piece about that. /brings you white chocolate with cranberries" (scoundrels-in-love)

Jaime stood outside; the music and murmur of discussion fading away in favour of crickets and the distant sound of water. The ball had not been his idea, but Father had insisted. _You need a wife, _he’d said. _You need an heir. _As if Jaime cared for those things. As if anyone cared to be married to him. Perhaps, once, they would. Ladies from all Seven Kingdoms would have flocked to Casterly Rock to be his bride. 

But who wanted to be wed to the Kingslayer; a one-handed knight?

He looked down at his right hand; the flesh severed by an eager Northern knight thinking Jaime stood between Robert and the King. The only decent thing Stark had ever done for Jaime was call for a maester rather than let him bleed out on the floor next to Aerys’ corpse. Robert had not wanted a one-handed Kingsguard. His sister had not wanted a lover that was no longer her mirror. His father gained a Queen, and retook his heir. Jaime gained a golden hand. 

He sighed. 

Footsteps echoed behind him. Jaime turned, greeted by the sight of the tallest girl he had ever seen. He only knew she was a girl by the pink velvet and lace she had been forced into. She saw him, too; eyes widening. “Forgive me, Ser Jaime, I only wished to get some air.” 

“You’ve committed no crime against me; there is nothing to forgive.” He turned from the girl and looked out onto the gardens of Casterly Rock. His home, his _prison. _Another sigh. _“_Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?” 

“Not really.” 

Jaime barked out a laugh. It was the first piece of honesty he’d heard all night. Ladies simpered in his father’s presence but all rebuffed any offers to dance with him. The unseemly sight of his golden hand, the stain upon a white cloak he no longer wore, turned their heads as well as their stomachs. And who could blame them? 

Running a hand across his face, he turned to the girl. She looked as miserable as he felt. “We make quite the pair, then, as I am not enjoying myself either.” 

“Do you not care for dancing?” 

“I do.” He wet his top lip, unsure how much honesty was welcome; how much truth was weakness. There was no guile in the girl’s eyes; just a vivid blue. So he decided to be open. “No lady here has taken up my offer to dance.” 

“Perhaps you have not asked every lady.” 

His forehead creased; Jaime looking up into the eyes of his companion. For a moment he struggled to recall her name, but it quickly came flooding back. Lady Brienne, Lord Selwyn Tarth’s daughter. Three failed betrothals despite being the future Evenstar. Father had invited her because, in his words, _people will be looking at her face rather than at your hand. _But they hadn’t. Lady Brienne had faded into corners and shadows and no one could miss the gold appendage at the end of his wrist. 

“Would you dance with me, then, Lady Brienne?” 

He said it mockingly; a test to which Jaime was unsure of the answer. He held out his right hand and waited for her to demure; to perhaps even shrink away if that was in the repertoire of someone as tall and broad as she. Instead, she took his hand. 

“You will have to forgive me; I am a much better swordsman than I am a dancer.” 

“Well, I fear I am now a better dancer than I am a swordsman, so in that, my lady, we will be well matched.” 

Her lips quirked as they made their way back inside. A few heads turned; more than a few people tittered at the sight they made. What was it his father said they called her? Ah, _yes. _Brienne the Beauty and the Lame Lannister Lion. Perhaps they were a good match after all. 


	47. "Public Image" - Queen!Brienne, Hand!Jaime (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Me. I want you to write a modernizar queen au. Please. Thank you." (twelvemonkeyswere)

Takeout bag in hand, Jaime traversed the corridors of the Red Keep and headed for the Queen’s chambers. Today had been a long, gruelling day in front of the press, and some comfort food would not go amiss with his best friend. He nodded at Ser Jason and Ser Jon, the two Queensguard at her door, as he approached. Whilst in ancient Westeros they would have been fitted with gold plated armour and a white cloak, now they simply wore black suits with the Tarth sigil embroidered on their lapel. 

“Gentlemen. May I?” 

Ser Jon opened the door, allowing Jaime entry. Brienne was sitting at her desk, tapping at her laptop. Video feed of today’s excursion with her paramour, Renly Baratheon, played on the screen. She was scrolling down to read the comments. “Bad idea, Your Grace.” 

“I know, I know.” Brienne clicked to another tab, another news site, before turning to him. Her eyes set upon the greasy bag in his right hand. “Is that from Hot Pie’s?”

“Only the best burgers in King’s Landing.” 

He offered the bag to Brienne; the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms immediately digging in. Cheese, bacon, onion rings: he knew the lady’s order off by heart. As her teeth clamped around the bun, her vivid blue eyes remained fixed upon the streaming video. Renly was giving her a tour of the old castle in Storm’s End; the ancient Baratheon seat. Photographers and journalists were there to capture every glance, every touch. 

“We look good together, don’t we?” Brienne said through a mouthful of burger. She swallowed. “Are there any chips?” 

“At the bottom.” She grabbed some and offered one to Jaime. His teeth took it as his hands pressed to her shoulders. His fingertips immediately began rubbing the knots that had formed since she had taken the throne eighteen moons before. “You’re playing well on social media. Renly is charming, _reasonably _attractive.” 

Brienne snorted. “He’s no _Jaime Lannister: is this the hottest Hand Westeros has ever had_?” 

Jaime glared. Olenna had papered the Small Council chambers with that article for days; even slipping a copy underneath his door. “Be that as it may, he’s alright. If you like him. If you _love _him.” 

Brienne didn’t answer. She just took another bite of her burger as the silent news feed changed to earlier images of Brienne’s reign: her covered in blood and soot as she walked through King’s Landing during the siege; Brienne’s coronation, Jaime by her side; shot after shot of her helping to rebuild the city. There were even a few of Brienne in jeans and a t-shirt; the young woman struggling to adjust to royal life. Finally, it ended on a photograph taken fifteen years before, of her and Renly at some party on Tarth. _A fairytale _they were calling it. 

Jaime called it a necessity. 

She offered Jaime another fry as his thumbs began working into the blades of her shoulders. Her groan was practically indecent as he continued to massage her. Brienne took another bite of her burger and moaned again. 

He chuckled. “You have to choose: the burger or the massage?”

Brienne swallowed. “I’m having both right now, so I don’t have to choose at all.” 

_That’s right. You don’t have to choose. _Jaime would never force her; would never say ‘it’s me or Renly’. Because there was no choice, not really. Renly was her teenage crush, now her potential Prince Consort. Jaime was just a man she found in the throne room in a bloodied suit who had fallen head over heels in love the moment she’d asked him _why. _


	48. "Guest Spot" - Hand!Jaime goes on television, sequel to '46' (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "please PLEASE tell us more about modernverse Hand!Jaime being interviewed on television" (eldritch-beau)

Jaime took a sip of water during the commercial break of _Good Morning, Westeros. _The anchor, Melara Hetherspoon, kept pulling down the front of her blouse as she adjusted her microphone. Jaime gave her no mind; just mentally went over his notes for the interview. The Queen’s decision to change inheritance laws had not gone over well with some of the old families. As a Lannister, Jaime hoped his voice would carry weight. 

The cameraman cued them in. Jaime brushed some lint from his shirt (which was blue, but that had _no _relation to Brienne’s eyes) and made sure his Hand pin was straight. _Here we go. _

“This morning, we’re joined by Hand to the Queen, Ser Jaime Lannister. Now, yesterday it was announced that Queen Brienne plans to change inheritance laws so the eldest child, regardless of gender, takes it all.” 

“Yes, that’s true. Her Grace felt that, after legislation was put forth that her firstborn child – girl or boy – will inherit the throne, it was necessary to extend that to all Seven Kingdoms.”

Melara pursed her lips; her gaze sweeping across his muscular thighs. “And will these changes to inheritance start after a certain point?” 

Jaime shook his head. “To an extent. Say if you’ve recently inherited lands or titles, but you’re the second or third born, we won’t be stripping those away. _But, _anyone who has yet to inherit will have to check their birth order.” 

“Like you. Your sister is older than you, correct?” 

He laughed. “A few minutes, yes, but under this new legislation, my sister, Cersei, will indeed get Casterly Rock.” She could keep it, too. Jaime had no interest in the large estate in Lannisport; nor his father’s company. His place was with the Queen for as long as she would have him. “The Queen believes that this is the future of Westeros, and I agree.”

“Speaking of the future of Westeros…” Jaime caught movement in the corner of his eye, and saw that the screen behind him had changed from the _Good Morning, Westeros _logo to a photograph of Brienne and Baratheon on one of their ‘dates’. “Is there anything you can tell me about the budding romance between the Queen and Renly Baratheon?” 

Jaime cleared his throat. “Renly Baratheon is…” _Unworthy. “…_he’s a man. _A gentleman. _Other than that, I wouldn’t like to comment on the Queen’s personal relationships.” 

“Of course, of course. I mean, _I, personally, _have become completely wrapped up in the fairytale of Queen Brienne and Renly Baratheon. You know, meeting at the ball when she was fifteen; them _dancing _together.” 

“Yes, yes, I’ve–I’ve seen the picture.” 

The screen behind him changed to that overused shot of a tall fifteen-year-old girl shoved into an ill-fitting pink dress, dancing with a boy three years older and a head shorter. How _this _was considered a fairytale, Jaime had no idea. What was truly romantic was being held for the first time in two years; a woman you did not know letting her cry on your shoulder as she trusted you, _believed _you. That was love. _He _was in love. Renly loved the limelight, nothing more. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the _mass _of fans on social media who are _shipping _these two.” Jaime was aware. Whilst once upon a time there had been a Master of Whispers, there was now a Master of Media Relations. Podrick, barely of age, kept Jaime up to date with net comments. “There is also a _very _small subset of royal fans who think there’s something going on between you and the Queen!” 

Be calm. Be cool. _You are on live television, Jaime. Do not give anything away. _He slipped on the mask he had grown comfortable wearing whilst he had served Aerys Targaryen, and lightly chuckled. “Well, everyone has to have a hobby, I suppose!”

Laughing herself, Melara quickly turned to the camera and introduced the next segment. Jaime didn’t stop smiling until he was in the green room. Fuck. _Fuck. _How, in all Seven Hells, had people started to suspect his feelings for Brienne?


	49. "Winterfell" - Queen!Brienne and LC!Jaime are caught (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "prompt: braime secret relationship?" (anonymous)

Brienne had not stepped foot in Winterfell since she had joined Ned to fight in Robert’s rebellion all those years ago. The castle had not changed; the people were perhaps older, the air still as crisp. But now she wore a crown atop her head; her reign in its seventeenth year. She had a husband where before she had spurned her third betrothal. She had _children: _as tall as her, as beautiful as their father. Brienne remembered running through these corridors with Lyanna; praying in the Godswood for a kind life. 

She could recall hiding in this tower from the taunts of the Northern lads; children cruel everywhere. Now she hid in the tower with Ser Jaime, Lord Commander of her Queensguard. 

His lips were hot against the juncture where her neck met her shoulder; his hands skimming her waist, hips. Teeth teased taut skin and Brienne _groaned. _“We shouldn’t be doing this here.”

“And where do you suggest we do it?” Jaime stole a kiss from her lips. “Four weeks on the road; four weeks home. I _miss _you.” 

“And I, you.” Brienne teased his golden mane; Jaime’s lips kissing a path along her arm. _Oh, _she had missed Jaime’s touch terribly. Inns and camps meant sharing with Renly, and there was little warmth between them now; if there had ever been. It was unlikely they were to be seen here. No one had ever found Brienne before. Grinning, Brienne wrapped her arms around Jaime’s neck. Her lips found his ear; teeth toying with the lobe. “Touch me.” 

Fingers fumbled with the laces of her breeches. Together they perched her atop a discarded crate, Jaime baring her to the cool North air. His hands were warm as they parted her thighs; his lips soft against her cunt. He left kiss after kiss against her tender skin before his tongue lapped at her growing wetness. Brienne threw her head back, fingers sinking into Jaime’s hair, and _groaned. _She remembered the first time he’d touched her like this; the first time _anyone _had touched her like this. She’d melted against him; hands gripping the bedsheets as she’d come against his mouth. 

Brienne bit down on her arm as she came, not wanting to alert anyone of their presence. She then pulled up her breeches and reached over to kiss Jaime. When she moved away, she caught sight of a figure in the window. One of Ned’s boys. Their eyes met, and he gasped. 

Jaime saw him, too. “Fuck.”

“Grab him, Jaime, before he falls!” 

They pulled the boy, Brandon, into the tower. He looked so different from his namesake; a Tully boy to be sure. Brienne knelt down beside him. “You know, my daughter used to climb like you. Until she nearly fell and hit her head. You shouldn’t be climbing this high, Brandon.”

The boy did not meet her eye. Brienne wondered whether Ned and Catelyn had had similar conversations. “Will you tell Mother?” 

“No, I won’t, as long as you _promise _not to do so again.” Brienne glanced at Jaime, and then back at the boy. “I won’t tell anyone what happened here, if you don’t tell anyone, either.” 

The boy nodded. “I promise, Your Grace.” 

“Good boy. Now, run along. _Take the stairs.” _

Brandon did as she bade, and scrambled towards the staircase. When he was away, Brienne looked towards her love. Jaime was staring out the window, as if recalling the day Cat had nearly fallen. A broken arm; a grazed knee. Renly had been by her bedside and Jaime, her father, had been sent away. _Oh, _what a horrible mess they were in. They’d fallen in love far too late: she was already married to Renly by that point; he her Lord Commander and dearest friend. In another life. _In another life. _

_“_We need to be more careful,” Jaime said, running a hand across a day’s stubble. “Now that Catelyn is to be your Hand, we should—”

“—what? Stop? I love you, Jaime. I don’t know what the answer is to this, but I can’t abide the thought of not being with you. It’s not like Renly cares.” 

He had all the pleasures that came with being the Prince Consort, and the physical pleasure of one of Brienne’s Queensguard; Olenna’s grandson. Renly did not care who she lay with, or who was the father of her children: he was treated well, could fuck whom he liked, and she would never touch him. Few others would be so understanding of the Queen’s affection for Tywin Lannister’s son and their three bastard children. Maybe Jaime _was _right. Maybe they _should _stop. With Ser Brynden’s death, a shadow had fallen over King’s Landing. 

Like a storm in the air, Brienne could taste it. War was coming. And she needed to protect her people, and her family. 


	50. "Second Line" - Brienne calls again, sequel to '39' (Modern AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "More Jaime the Sex Operator. How does he describe fucking her against a wall?" (agirlnamedkeith)

Jaime yawned as he finished his third call of the evening. Jeyne (not her real name) liked him to pose as a high-flying businessman who came into town and used her for his own pleasure. He’d throw in a few choice business phrases as he talked about his throbbing cock. Her voice would get higher and higher before she came; Jeyne whispering how she’d count the days until he came back into town like Jaime had any control over when she called. 

Still, she paid for his television subscription and that wasn’t something to be sniffed at. 

He took a brief break, tossed his shirt in the hamper, and wondered whether his landlady would get annoyed if he took calls whilst he did his laundry. As he considered the bulging basket, his phone rang for the fourth time. Jaime attached the headset and slipped into his persona. 

“This is Jaime. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

A brief pause, and then, “It’s Brienne. We spoke last week?” As if she was calling about a job opportunity or something he was selling on the web. “I–you—”

“I told you I wanted to fuck you standing up. I had you place your hands against the wall as I fucked you with my fingers; then I fucked you with my cock as your breasts pressed against the wall.” Jaime fell back against his unmade bed. “Or was it a window? Anyone could have watched me fuck your cunt whilst you played with your breasts.” 

“It was _not _a window.” A huff. “It was just the wall. You remember, then.”

“Oh, _Brienne, _how could I forget?” 

His first-timer. She’d begged for his cock by the end. Jaime had been more than happy to give it to her; in reality, his own was straining against the material of his soft pants. He’d stroked himself in time to Brienne’s gasps as he whispered how hard he would take her; how he would pluck at her nipples and press his thumb against her clit. Jaime remembered coming with her; mouth clamped around his pillowcase lest she hear. 

He also remembered her adamancy that she would _not _be calling again. “Couldn’t keep away, then?” 

_“_For a service provider, you are _incredibly _rude.” Another huff. Jaime imagined her scowling. “But, _yes, _I…enjoyed before, and would like you to do it again.” 

His cock was already twitching; her clipped, rich voice hiding her barely restrained lust. Jaime palmed himself through his shorts. “If I ask you what you’re wearing, will you call me out again? You can be very rude yourself, you know. I’m just here, doing my job. I don’t come to your place of work and criticise you.” 

Her laugh was quite something. After a moment it petered out, and she said: “I’m wearing knickers and a t-shirt. They’re not lacy or anything, and the t-shirt isn’t white or see-through.” 

“You’re putting me out of a job.” Jaime wet his top lip. “Well, I’m just in my shorts. So let’s make it even. Take off your shirt, Brienne.” 

“Al–alright.” 

He heard the rustle of fabric. “Now touch your breasts. Cup them; massage them. Don’t touch your nipples just yet.” Brienne exhaled; a soft moan falling from her lips. “Gods, that’s it. You liked it when I played with your nipples before, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Then twist them. As tight as you can bear it.” A ragged moan echoed through the phone line. Jaime slid the waistband of his shorts down and gripped his shaft. “Does that feel good?” Nothing. “Brienne, Sweetling, if you’re nodding, I can’t see you.”

“_Fuck you.” _

_“_That’s what I’m about to do. Put your hands by your sides. Tell me how you feel.” She hesitated. “I’m here to make you feel good, Brienne. You can tell me; no judgements.” 

“My nipples are hard. They’re sore, but the _good _kind of sore. I _ache_, and I know I’m wet.” Jaime grinned. “I’m going to touch myself now.” 

A snap of elastic. Jaime pumped his shaft with his hand. “Are you, Brienne? Are you wet for me?” He buried his head in his pillow when she didn’t respond. “Come on, Blue Eyes, I won’t judge. Tell me how wet you are.” 

“Soaked.” 

“I’m hard. Harder than I think I’ve ever been.” Jaime didn’t even know if that was a lie. He just kept stroking his cock. “I want you touch yourself, Brienne. Feel how wet you are; imagine your fingers are my fingers. Imagine I’m touching your clit; sliding inside you. How many fingers can you take for me?”

“T–two. Maybe three.” 

“Keep your legs spread for me, Sweetling. Fuck yourself with your fingers; imagine they’re mine.” He was close. Too close. He had a job to do first. “Even better, imagine you’re putting on a show for me. Imagine you’re fucking yourself and driving me insane. Because you _are_, Brienne.”

“_Jaime.”_

_“_I hope you’re close to coming because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.” She moaned his name; the name of the Gods, old and new. “Come for me, Brienne. Fall apart for me.” 

She did. And he fell apart right alongside her. 


	51. "Father" - Princess Joanna has some questions for LC!Jaime (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "pleaseeee could we get another snippet of the queen brienne/lord commander jaime?" (anonymous)

Jaime was updating an entry in the White Book when he spotted a glimpse of blonde hair. It disappeared as he dipped his quill into the inkwell, only to reappear out of the corner of his eye. Jaime allowed the page to dry as he leant back in his seat; bending his head to hopefully catch a glimpse of his afternoon visitor. He met sapphire blue eyes, quickly darting behind the door with a giggle. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Princess?” 

Princess Joanna was the youngest heir to the throne. At seven years old, she was already taller than most of the young playmates thrust upon her. She stood now, framed in the doorway in a blue dress; something hidden behind her back. “Can I give you a gift, Ser Jaime?” 

“Princess, I will gladly accept any gift you would bestow.” 

Another giggle, and a pair of bare feet padded across the room. Joanna crawled into Jaime’s lap and placed a crown of daisies and sunflowers atop his head. She leaned back, assessed his visage with the cool appraisal more suited to her mother, the Queen. Declaring him satisfactory, Joanna beamed. “_Perfect.”_

“Thank you, Princess, I shall wear it with pride.” 

One of the flowers, apparently unworthy to be in his own crown, rested in Joanna’s hair above her ear. She settled against Jaime as she stared at the large tome in front of them. “What’s that?” 

“This is the new Book of Brothers. When your mother became Queen, and I became Lord Commander, I started a new book.” _A new chapter for us all; the Kingsguard had their day, it was now time for the Queensguard to serve and protect. _“I have an entry in here. As does Ser Owen, Ser Jon, Ser Loras.” 

Joanna wrinkled her nose. Prince Renly’s constant companion was not in favour with the children, and Jaime could not blame them. Thankfully, Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander, was a treasured friend and often included in their games. He’d played knights with Cat and Brynden; hunted dragons with Joanna in the bowels of the Red Keep. Their mother joined in when she could. No three children were more loved in all of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“Ser Jaime, can I ask a question?” 

“Of course, Princess.” 

Her bottom lip fumbled. “Why do none of us look like Father?” 

_Oh, Sweetling, you do look like your father. You have my smile, and Brynden has my laugh. Cat has all the recklessness of the young boy who’d jumped from the cliffs at Casterly Rock. _All three children were blonde, with the bright blue eyes of the Tarth waters. They were tall, as both he and Brienne were. There was no possibility of any of them resembling Renly, either in appearance or nature, but Jaime understood why Joanna had asked. 

He swallowed as he searched for an answer that was not _because you are mine. “_You and your siblings are your mother’s. You are the heirs to the throne, and to Tarth; you carry her name rather than the Baratheon name. The Gods knew this, you see, and that’s why they made you, and Cat, and Brynden look _exactly _like her.”

His answer seemed to settle Joanna, and Jaime found his entry in the White Book so he could impart stories of his adventures with his youngest child. Jaime wore his flower crown until she fell asleep, and continued to wear it as he carried her from the White Sword Tower to the Princess’ chambers. He wore it until Joanna’s mother removed it from his head, and pressed her lips to his temple in its stead. 


	52. "Queen of Love and Beauty" - LC!Jaime wins a tournament (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just imagined Jaime winning a tourney and instead of naming Brienne the queen of love and beauty, as would be expected, placing the wreath onto young Cat and i want TO CRY!" (anonymous)

“Ser Jaime, as winner of the joust, you may crown your Queen of Love and Beauty.” 

The herald handed Jaime the wreath; supple willow adorned with sunflowers and blue stars: Tarth blooms. Oh, how he was tempted to crown his Sapphire Queen. His love. His beauty. _His. _Brienne had watched him compete from the stands; her favour (an embroidered handkerchief in Tarth colours) tucked far out of sight. His fingers flexed around the crown, yet Jaime did not trust himself not to touch her hair, her face. 

“Ser Jaime?”

His gaze fell from his beloved to the other girl in his life. Princess Catelyn, his _Cat, _stared up at him with the largest smile he had ever witnessed. She adored Ser Jaime; had screamed his name every time his horse ran true. Jaime knelt in front of her, now, and offered the wreath. 

“May I, Princess?” 

Her head bobbed, and Jaime placed the crown atop his daughter’s head. Cat turned to her mother to show off her crown; so dissimilar to the gold and jewels Brienne wore but to a child of five, they were the same. Brienne beamed at her daughter. _Their daughter. _Jaime was about to rise when Cat barrelled forward, throwing her arms around his neck. The crowd of lords and ladies cooed at the sweetness of the moment. Jaime felt like weeping. 

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” she whispered into his neck. 

“You’re welcome, Princess.” 


	53. "Bride" - Hand!Brienne, King!Jaime (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would you be willing to do a JB prompt which is the reverse of Queen Brienne AU, so Jaime is King and Brienne is Hand? And Jaime maybe “accidentally” kisses his best advisor/Hand?" (anonymous)

Jaime had never shown much interest in the opposite sex before. Growing up, there had only ever been his sister; until Father had caught them, of course, and Jaime had been sent to foster with Rickard Stark as punishment. There had been girls at Winterfell: dark hair, grey eyes, full lips. But away from his sister’s machinations, Jaime realised he didn’t want to bed servant girls and whores. He wanted to bed his _wife, _whoever she would be. 

Now, as King of the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime realised she would be Brienne of Tarth. 

A few strands of blonde hair had fallen across her eyes as she looked at the messages sent from fathers looking to offer their daughters as the future Queen. The Hand pin rested across her breast; an ink-stained thumb brushing her bottom lip. Jaime had known it would be her for some time, even though he had not admitted it to himself. The first day they’d met – when the rebels had taken King’s Landing – Jaime had walked into the throne room thinking himself the Warrior. But it had been Brienne who’d inhabited his spirit that day. 

He grinned at her now across his desk. She looked up; forehead knotting. “What?” 

“Nothing. How goes the search? Any candidates?” 

“Mace Tyrell wishes you to marry his daughter, Margaery.” 

Jaime scoffed. “She’s _eight. _Anyone else?” 

“Several of your father’s bannermen, as to be expected.” Brienne offered him a glance; he responded with a single nod. Brienne tossed the letters into the fire. His father was still bitter that he had asked Ser Brienne of Tarth to be his Hand rather than him, and was using Jaime’s impending marriage to regain favour. It would not work. “The Tullys have just been married, but there are several Frey daughters who wouldn’t mind being Queen.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t.” He leant back in his chair. “What about you?”

Brienne began scribbling replies to inform them that their daughters did not meet the stringent requirements of the King’s new bride – they were not the Maid of Tarth. “‘What about me’, what?” 

“Would you like to be Queen?”

She barked out a laugh. “And people say the King has no sense of humour.” 

“That doesn’t–_who _says I don’t have a good sense of humour?” 

Brienne grinned, picked herself up from her chair, and came around to his side of the desk. Her hand lingered upon his, and Jaime felt his entire body tremble in anticipation. Would she bow to him, never having mastered the courtesy? Would she pull him in for a hug, as they were wont to do ever since he had held her close over the body of their former King? Or would her lips brush his cheek; soft, firm, sending a ripple of pleasure throughout his entire body?

It was her lips. Practically pressed to the corner of his mouth. Jaime didn’t know what possessed him to turn his head just _so _and take her bottom lip between his. For a brief moment, they kissed. Mouths touching, hearts racing, fingers clutching at the other. 

And then Brienne pulled away; her face as crimson as his doublet. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, please forgive me.”

_Your Grace. _How long had it taken for her to call him _Jaime; _for Brienne to be open and honest about how much she craved his touch, as he did hers? “Brienne, it’s my—”

“—I’m _sorry. _I’m so sorry.” 

She fled from the room. Jaime sunk against his chair, kicking himself for being so selfish; for taking something he had no right in taking. He would need to make amends if he was to salvage his friendship with Brienne. Unfortunately, his chief advisor had just run out the door. 


	54. "Birth" - Queen!Brienne gives birth to their first child (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any chance you could write more QueenBrienne and LCJaime snippets? Maybe including their children?" (anonymous)

A sharp cry pierced the air. 

“Congratulations, Your Grace, you have a baby girl.” 

Across the room, Brienne’s gaze caught his for a single moment. And then it turned to her – _their – _babe. The Maester placed the infant in Brienne’s arms, swaddled in Tarth blue cloth. Jaime wished he could step closer. He wished he could be there to envelop the woman he loved in his arms, who’d endured so much during her labour to bring their babe into the world. He wished he could see the colour of his daughter’s eyes; see whether she had his nose or Brienne’s ears. Instead, Lord Commander Lannister stood by the door. 

“She’s beautiful, Brienne.” Catelyn Stark did what Jaime could not. She touched the babe’s head, and pressed a light kiss to Brienne’s temple. “I will go tell my Uncle the good news.” 

The Maester and the midwives fussed around Brienne in the bed; the death of the Queen’s mother in childbirth had given them much concern. But Brienne was _strong, _and the Warrior and Maiden smiled down upon her. Jaime managed a smile as Catelyn passed; her hand patting his shoulder. 

“You can relax now, Ser. Your Queen is fine.” 

Jaime swallowed; nodding. “Childbirth is the one thing I cannot protect her from, my Lady.” 

“I understand. But she has done well, and now you have a new charge to protect.” 

“That I do.” 

He turned to the unnamed Princess in his beloved’s arms. Brienne tore herself away from her babe long enough to see him, to witness his barely concealed longing. She turned sharply towards the Maester. “I wish for a few moments alone with my daughter. Ser Jaime will stay by the door; he’ll call if anything is wrong.” 

The room emptied at her command. As the door to the Queen’s chambers closed shut, Jaime immediately closed the distance between himself and his family. He peeled off the tan jacket he wore, kicked off his boots, and joined Brienne on the bed. It would not be long before Lady Catelyn would return, and the Small Council would descend. Just long enough for them to be together, the three of them. 

Brienne sagged against him; Jaime’s fingers brushing damp strands away from her forehead. “You were incredible, Brienne.” 

“I’ve yet to endure a battle I have not won; this was just a different kind of battle.” Brienne turned to their daughter. “She looks like you. I’m glad for it.” 

“Really? Because I think she looks like you.” Jaime stared upon his daughter for the first time. She shared the sapphire blue eyes of her mother and grandfather; delicate strands of white-blonde hair. Her face ruddy; her fingers tiny. “She’s _perfect.” _

Brienne bobbed her head. “She is, isn’t she?”

Jaime’s gaze was stuck between staring adoringly at his baby girl and watching the woman he loved stare with utter joy at the physical proof of their love. He did not say so; knew Brienne would not believe him if he did. But, by the Gods, she looked so beautiful right now. Eyes alight, cheeks pink. Like when she sparred with him in the courtyard. When they’d first met, Jaime had thought her the Maiden. Over the months of their acquaintance, he had seen her as the Warrior. Now. she was the Mother. 

“What do you intend to name her?” Jaime asked, his fingers touching the hand of his newborn daughter. “The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, first of her name.” 

“I–I don’t know.” Brienne sighed. “Everyone thought I was carrying a boy.” 

Everyone did, from the Citadel to the smallfolk. Money had even been wagered on the name: Robert, Steffon, and Selwyn were all high contenders. Jaime had, personally, preferred Duncan if their child was a boy. No one had entertained the possibility she was to have a girl, even if the rules of succession had changed. 

Brienne looked at the doorway, a crease appearing on her forehead, before turning back to their daughter. Her fingertip brushed the soft line of their babe’s nose. Brienne’s nose. “Cat. We’ll call her Cat.” 

Jaime grinned, staring at his daughter. She stared back. “Hello, Cat. I’m your father.” 

His stomach clenched at the knowledge she would never remember those words; never remember this brief moment where they were a family. He swallowed, and smiled, and held his girls until the Maester knocked to announce his return. 


	55. "Complication" - Brienne and Jaime are secretly married (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're still taking prompts... Secret Marriage AU?" (anonymous)

“There she is.”

Jaime cast his eyes into the Godswood; his gaze settling upon the still figure of Lady Stark’s praying daughter. _So much like her mother. _He swallowed, and tapped the wood of the balustrade. “There she is. And?”

“You made a promise.”

“To return the Stark girls to their mother who—” His voice trailed off, remembering vividly the last time he had seen Catelyn Stark. Remembering Brienne’s face when she had been informed of her fate. “—who is now dead.”

Brienne pursed her lips. “To keep them _safe.”_

Those were not the only vows he had made in recent months, and the Stark girls were not the only ones he had sworn to protect. He gritted his teeth, once again annoyed by how _straightforward _Brienne seemed to think everything was. “Well, Arya Stark hasn’t been seen her father was killed. Where do you think she is? My money’s on _dead_.” Brienne flinched. “There’s a certain safety in death, wouldn’t you say? And Sansa Stark is now…_Sansa Lannister.” _Jaime paused. “And she’s not the only one.” 

Two pink spots appeared on Brienne’s cheeks. He leaned in closer. “So, _Brienne Lannister, _what would you have me do? How would you have me handle these complications?”

Her chin jutted forward. “A complication does not release you from a _vow.”_

“I’m awareof that. But our situation is more delicate than you give it credit for.” 

Brienne turned from him; those haunting blue eyes fixed upon her charge. Her jaw tightened. “Do you regret it?” 

“It? The vow I made to Lady Stark?” 

“No.” Her tongue swiped across her top lip. “The vows you made to me.” 

He needed less than a second to make his response. “_No.”_

Whilst, in truth, he had never imagined returning to King’s Landing with a wife, Jaime could now not picture a day without Brienne by his side. They had left Harrenhal together; both in pain, both distrusting their companions. One night, they’d slain the Bolton man on watch and took off together. It had been slow progress. For some nights, a fever had taken Brienne as her wounds did their best to knit and heal. Jaime had been paralysed at the thought of her expiring in front of him, so close had he grown to her. But Brienne was strong. 

Stronger than he, when they had sought shelter at an abandoned farmhouse and Brienne had cleaned them both. He could still feel the tremor of her lips on his when they’d kissed for the first time. 

Now, Jaime glanced around for watchful eyes before brushing his mouth to hers. “I love you. I don’t regret becoming your husband, or regret the vows I have taken since knowing you. I will, _however, _regret any action that leads to your death if we don’t move _carefully.”_

_“_Jaime—”

“You don’t know them like I do. My sister will have you killed in your sleep if she discovers I am now no longer hers. My father will pack us both off to Casterly Rock to make a pride of lion cubs.” He smirked. “Not that that will be too much of a hardship. I do love the noises you—”

Brienne covered his mouth with her hand. “_Stop.”_

His tongue licked her palm; Brienne pulled back, scowling. Jaime just laughed. “Trust me. We will ensure Sansa’s safety.” 

_And yours, Brienne. Of all the vows I have ever taken, of all the vows I have ever broken, I would rather die than break the ones I have made to you. _


	56. "Mystery Knight" - They're married and secret rivals (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "since you’re still taking prompts: JB mr and mrs smith au" (anonymous)

Ser Jaime Lannister pressed his heels into the flanks of his horse; Honor picking up speed as she returned her master to Casterly Rock. Night was drawing in, and his journey had already taken longer than usual after stopping in a roadside tavern. It had been necessary, of course, to collect the papers and coin he was _supposed _to obtain whilst he was _really_ out competing in the tournament in Ashemark. His father, the Hand to the King, had made Jaime swear to stop competing in tournaments; acts of valour. _You’re a Lord, now. Not a knight. _

Jaime would always be a knight. He’d always be the Kingslayer. So what were vows, really?

Sighing to himself, Jaime trotted through the gates of Casterly Rock and was immediately met by the head groomsmen. He took Honor’s reigns and allowed Jaime to disembark. The man bowed his head as Jaime’s feet hit the ground. “Pleasant business, my Lord?”

“Not as pleasant as I’d hoped.” 

Grimacing, Jaime swept inside. He’d placed second – _second – _in the tournament; another mystery knight pipping him to first. Oh, he was getting sick of the sight of that blue armour; the sharp bite of steel or the clang of that morning star. There used to be a time that Ser Jaime Lannister could not be beaten. Red cloak; lions emblazoned across his armour: he commanded fear; he commanded _respect. _

Perhaps it was best he competed anonymously, now. His second-place could not bring shame upon his House, or his name. 

Jaime was not one to drink, but he would quite happily drown his sorrows tonight. He turned to one of the servants as he approached the great dining hall. “Has my wife returned from visiting Lord and Lady Fell?”

The servant nodded. “Yes, my Lord. She is currently awaiting your arrival before dining.”

“How very _diligent _of her_._”

He entered the great dining hall; Lady Lannister seated upon his right. She was stuffed into an azure gown; the material stretching across her broad back and shoulders. Her face was ruddy; blue eyes clouding immediately upon the sight of him. A great shame: those eyes were the only pleasant thing about his wife’s face. Jaime approached the table, offering his wife a single nod rather than a kiss to her cheek or lips. 

A servant quickly offered them both wine after he took his seat. The first course was served. “Was your visit pleasant, Lady Lannister?”

“Very, my Lord. And yours?”

“Frustrating.” His fork clattered against the china; the ache in his shoulder where the blue knight had struck with his morning star suddenly deepening. “Still, there is nothing to be done about it.”

“Quite.”

They ate and drank in companionable silence; neither having much in common with the other. The former Maid of Tarth was as boring as she was ugly: she had no interest in sword-fighting or the old stories; cared little for sewing and music. _Still, _she was the only woman in all Seven Kingdoms who had wanted to marry the Kingslayer. Her eyes _were_ something else entirely; like sapphires or deep water. And there were rare moments of pleasure to be found. 

But nothing more. 


	57. "Wallet" - Brienne finds a picture in a stranger's wallet (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm begging you, and holding out a basket of your favorite kind of muffins, please, oh please, some words on "The Billboard"." (anonymous)
> 
> This stands alone, but can also be read alongside '26' and '35'.

“So, what do you think?”

Brienne stared up at the billboard in sheer _horror. _Eyes wide, jaw slack, fingers digging into Margaery’s upper arm. “You _said _you _just _wanted to see how it looked on a model of my height!”

“And I did! And you look _incredible._”

It was clear that Brienne would get neither sense, nor an apology, from Margaery Tyrell. All she could do was stand, and _stare, _at the larger than life image of herself. Pale white skin marred by a multitude of freckles. Unkempt strands of white-blonde hair and watery blue eyes. The corset Margaery had designed for her company, _Golden Rose Lingerie, _that she thought would suit Brienne’s figure. After Loras had taken a few shots (and Brienne had taken a few shots), she’d even started to feel comfortable. 

Now Brienne felt anything but.

“You should have asked me, Margaery.” She ran a hand over her face. “There’s people on the street; there are offices everywhere. For Seven’s sake, the Lannister Holdings building is _right _there!” Brienne felt so sorry for the poor executive who opened his blinds and was faced with _her _in lingerie. 

But before she could beg Margaery to have the billboard removed, Brienne saw movement across the street. A man bumped into two others; one around Brienne’s height, another much shorter. The two men continued onwards; the other man heading her way. In his hands was a wallet. He opened it and began stuffing the dragon notes and credit cards into his pockets. 

“HEY!”

Brienne’s shout startled him. He started sprinting; she pursued. The man ducked into an underground tunnel but, just before he ducked out of sight, threw the wallet he had stolen behind him. She lost the thief in the crowd of people and, with a frustrated sigh, gave up the chase. Brienne picked up the wallet from the ground and noticed there was nothing left inside. Not even any ID. 

Margaery caught up with her. “No luck?”

“Cleaned out.” Brienne checked the card slots; the section for notes. Then, in a zipped compartment, she found something. “Hang on.” 

It was a photograph. Faded with time; creased along the middle. A man, around Brienne’s age. Dark-blonde hair fell across his face and brushed the firm length of his shoulders. Emerald eyes and a jaw so sharp Brienne was afraid of running her fingers across even the photograph. His smile made her stomach flutter. He was the most gorgeous man Brienne had ever seen. _He _belonged on the billboard, not her. 

On the back of the photograph, in neat print, were the words _golden lion. _

“Do you think that’s the owner?” Margaery asked. “If so, I volunteer to return it.”

Brienne barked out a laugh. “Who keeps a picture of themselves in their own wallet? It’s a brother, maybe; probably a boyfriend.”

That would be just like her, to find herself attracted to another unobtainable man. The golden lion was probably the place where this picture was taken; some trendy bar or resort where the couple retreated so as to get away from their hectic lives. For a moment, though, Brienne imagined it was this man’s nickname; stolen from one of the names of the Goldenhand the Just, one of Brienne’s favourite historical figures. He loved the old stories, this golden man, and would relish being taken on an after-hours tour of her museum. His hair would be soft as she ran her fingers through it; Brienne unafraid to touch, and tease.

“Well, you tried.”

“Hmm?” Brienne looked up from the photograph in her hand. “Oh, yeah. I’ll toss the wallet. Nothing in there, now, anyway.” 

When Margaery wasn’t looking, she pocketed the photograph. It just…didn’t feel right to throw it away. That was all. 


	58. "Silverhill" - Brienne uses a sperm donor to get pregnant (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "can you please write something with pregnant brienne in a modern universe?" (anonymous)

“You should be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat, now.”

A steady thump filled the small Maester’s office. Brienne felt her own leap. She closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the baby’s – _her baby’s _– heartbeat. Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she turned to Maester Luwin in gratitude. Although Catelyn’d had reservations about Brienne going through this journey alone, she had pulled several strings to get Brienne into Luwin’s office. Having delivered all five Stark children, she was surely in good hands. 

“Your babe sounds happy and healthy to me,” Luwin said, removing the ultrasound wand and giving Brienne a wad of tissue to wipe the jelly from her stomach. “We’ll schedule another appointment for next month, and if you have any concerns feel free to contact me.”

“Thank you. _Thank you._”

Outside the office, Brienne made another appointment with Luwin’s receptionist, Ros. Then she stepped outside, a single hand pressing to her abdomen. She was barely showing, but after hearing her baby’s heartbeat, this was all starting to feel very, _very _real. 

It was at that point that a town car pulled up to the kerb. Brienne gave it little mind until a man stepped out. He wore an ill-fitting suit with an askew tie, and several days worth of stubble. He removed his sunglasses and gave her a quick once-over. “Brienne Tarth?”

“Who wants to know?” 

The man sighed heavily. “Tywin Lannister. ‘eard of him?” 

Who _hadn’t _heard of Tywin Lannister? The CEO of Lannister Holdings was a formidable figure in King’s Landing. Brienne had even had the misfortune of dealing with his eldest son on a number of occasions. Awful, _arrogant _man. Brienne pressed her hand firmer against her stomach, as if shielding her unborn child from the Lannister influence. 

“What does he want with me?”

The rear door opened, and a voice emanated from inside. “_He _wishes to ask you a few questions about Silverhill Fertility Clinic.” 

Swallowing, Brienne forwarded the licence plate to Catelyn, and stepped into the car. Tywin Lannister sat, back straight, on the far corner of the leather seats. When the door was closed behind her, Lannister waited briefly for her to fasten her seatbelt before the town car sped off. He then reached for a file. 

“You were a patient at Silverhill Fertility Clinic.”

Brienne’s eyes widened as she saw copies of her medical notes in his hand. _Unbelievable. _“Yes. Not that that is any business of yours.” Her career as curator of Evenfall Hall was going well, and Brienne had made the decision to start a family. With a slim romantic history, Brienne had opted for a sperm donor. The Westerlands clinic was considered the very best. 

“The material you chose was from donor 616.”

“Yes.” The donor was healthy and had made some note on his ‘profile’ about being a knight. It had seemed a good match. “Mister Lannister—”

“You know my son, Jaime.”

Brienne snorted. “In so much as every time we meet, he does his level best to insult me. To be frank, Mister Lannister, if it were possible to _un_know someone, I would gladly do so with your son.”

As head of History at Lannisport University, Professor Jaime Lannister had wanted to write a book about the ancient knights of Westeros. He’d come to Evenfall Hall to undertake some research. Not only had he left a poor comment on their tourism website, but his book had been full of historical errors and supposition. Brienne’s article calling these into question had been _very _well-received. And so, a running spat was born. 

Her answer seemed to settle something inside Lannister, although he did not share it with Brienne. They sat in silence until the town car pulled up to another kerb. Brienne was _not _told to get out, although the driver did. There were hushed voices outside the car. Lannister made another sound, and thrust open his car door. 

Through the open door, Brienne saw the one person in this world she did not wish to see. 

“Jaime, we need to discuss your donation to Silverhill Fertility Clinic.” 


	59. "Balloons and Streamers" - Brienne plans a surprise party for Jaime (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Early stage of the relationship Brienne is trying to be a really good gf and throws Jaime a surprise bday party but he hates surprises." (anonymous)

Brienne of Tarth was, officially, the worst girlfriend in existence. 

She sat, now, upon her boyfriend’s sofa with a crimson party blower between her lips, staring at his empty apartment. It should be filled with people: the family members Jaime could stand, old friends, their colleagues from the university. But no one had come. No one was standing at the buffet, or swiping a finger of icing from the birthday cake. No one was batting balloons or complaining about the awful playlist Brienne had chosen. 

She sagged back against the leather. Three months with Jaime. Her last boyfriend had made it seven weeks before he’d dumped her. Three months was a new record. 

Sighing, Brienne wondered whether she could take it all down before Jaime arrived home. Her hopes were dashed, however, as she heard his key in the lock. “Brienne?”

“In here.” He entered the living room; cool green eyes surveying her failed nameday party. “Surprise?” 

Jaime dropped his bag to the floor. “This is for me?” 

Brienne nodded. “It was supposed to be a surprise party for your nameday. There’s balloons, and streamers, and I made a cake.”

He ducked over to the food table and swiped his index finger in the icing. He stuck it between his lips and sucked. “Lemon curd.”

“Your favourite.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if they would shield her when Jaime inevitably ended things. Maybe, if she explained herself a little more— “I invited your brother, and your aunt. But Tyrion’s got stuck in customs at Braavos and Genna is at your sister’s soiree.”

Jaime immediately stiffened. “Seven-course tasting menu, according to Tyrion. _Very _well-to-do.”

“Better than turkey drumsticks and shots of ale.” Brienne’s teeth pulled at her bottom lip. “I tried to give it a historical feel. There’s even miniature game pies, although I think the pastry is a little soggy.”

“You did all this for me.” 

“Yes. But then no one _came. _Tyrion’s stuck and Bronn got called into work and Addam had a last-minute witness to prep for court.” Brienne continued to reel off the list of excuses why she was the only one at Jaime’s surprise party. “Shireen got a coin stuck in her nose so Stannis and his husband are in A & E, and they’ve shut the King’s motorway due to a storm up North so Catelyn is back in Winterfell. And Podrick has an assignment due, and—”

“—_stop.” _Jaime closed the distance between them and took both her hands in his. “The only person I want to spend my nameday with is _you. _I’m _glad _no one else showed up. I hate surprise parties; it throws you completely off-kilter and you’re always mingling with people you barely stand that were only invited to make up the numbers. I have _you, _and I have an entire cake.” His arms slid around her waist and his lips pecked a kiss to hers. “Best. Nameday. Ever.”

“You’re–you’re not going to dump me?”

Jaime drew back, almost affronted at her suggestion. But, as if his mind cycled through her meagre string of worthless exes, he seemed to settle, and soften. His right arm pulled her close, whilst his left took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Brienne, I told you when we got together: I am never, _ever _letting you go. Especially not after planning me a birthday with mini-game pies.”

“And pin the arrow to the knight.”

His face lit up. “Really? Can we play?”

Brienne bobbed her head. “Sure. Let me get the board.”

She ducked towards the floating staircase and retrieved the poorly drawn picture of the knight, the arrow with the pin at the end, and a blindfold. When Brienne returned to the living room, Jaime had fixed a paper plate brimming with the finger food she’d made. His birthday cake was also missing two forkfuls. Beaming, Brienne threw on her playlist and joined Jaime on the carpet. 

Maybe it wasn’t as sleek as Jaime’s previous namedays, or as elegant as his twin’s fancy dinner, but her love was happy. And that, truly, was all that mattered. 


	60. "Sand Dunes" - Lord Commander Jaime takes his children on a coastal walk (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! I hope your holiday has been great! I have a (selfish) prompt request, but it is my birthday tomorrow (11/5) so if I may be so bold: anything from the queen!b lc!j universe? Maybe something fluffy and/or smutty? Family feels? you're the best!!!!" (anonymous)

“I’m spending the morning with the children,” Brienne announced over breakfast with Lord Selwyn. “The Maester thinks the fresh air will do Cat some good, and it’ll stop Brynden running around the halls.” 

Lord Selwyn smiled over the rim of his teacup, and looked over his daughter’s shoulder. He caught Jaime’s eye. “Like mother, like son.” 

Brienne stared, affronted. “I was _not _that bad!”

“Best day of my life was when you discovered swords. At least you could play _outside.” _

Jaime snorted. His beloved threw a glare over her shoulder, and this time he didn’t try and hide his laughter. “Forgive me, Your Grace. But you have not changed _that _much.” 

“Just for that, Ser Jaime, you’ll escort me and the children on our walk.” 

For the other Queensguard in the room, a new appointment after the dismissal of Ser Petyr, this would be seen as a punishment. The Lord Commander, stomping across sand and fighting the sea breeze, as he watched his Queen and her children paddle in the surf rather than stay in Evenfall Hall and rest. But for Jaime, after the recent stresses, spending some time with his family was more of a gift. 

Four moons before, Princess Cat had been climbing the towers and turrets of the Red Keep. Ser Petyr, flirting with one of the servant girls, had failed to keep an eye on his charge. Cat had fallen; the drop thankfully broken by foliage. She survived with a broken leg and scrapes and bruises, but for some in Court, it had provided an opportunity to place Prince Brynden as next in line. Jaime’s intervention had no doubt stopped the assassination of his eldest child. 

It was shortly after that Brienne, her family, and the Small Council had made the journey to Tarth. 

After the breakfast things were cleared away, Ser Jaime escorted four Tarths from Evenfall Hall towards one of the many sandy beaches that covered the coast. A set of wooden steps led from the clifftops to the sand. 

“You take Brynden down,” Lord Selwyn said to his daughter. “We’ve got Cat.”

Brienne nodded, and took their five-year-old son’s hand lest he run and fall. That left Jaime with the young Princess, still uncertain of every step even after her leg had healed. Lord Tarth knelt down in front of his granddaughter. “Shall we carry you down?”

Cat bobbed her head. Selwyn looked at Jaime. “I am having trouble with my back, Ser. Would you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Cat certainly had no qualms about wrapping her arms around his neck; Jaime cradling his daughter close as they traversed the rickety staircase leading down into one of the most beautiful beaches he’d ever seen. Cat buried her face against his chest. “The water’s really blue.”

“It is. You know, I’ve only ever seen a brighter blue.” His daughter stared up at him, and he tapped her nose. “Your eyes. And your mother’s.”

She beamed. Beside him, Lord Selwyn clapped him on the shoulder. They both stared ahead as Brienne and Brynden rushed to remove their boots and roll up their breeches so they could paddle in the surf. Cat began fidgeting against him, and he released his daughter to join her mother and brother in the water. Jaime laughed as they both began splashing Brienne. 

“She fell from her horse when she was six,” Lord Selwyn said, quite suddenly. “Broke her nose, her arm. I feared I was to lose her before the maester calmed me. And then, the pain afterwards—”

“Forgive me, my Lord, I don’t quite understand.” 

His large hand patted Jaime’s shoulder. “Brienne told me how you kept Brynden out of the hands of those vultures. I’ve seen you sit outside Cat’s room until she falls asleep. You’re a good father, Jaime. The best I could hope for my grandchildren.” 

For once, Ser Jaime Lannister was lost for words. Thankfully, he needn’t find them, as Brynden rushed over and claimed his hand. They needed someone with long arms to each a particularly beautiful shell, apparently, and Selwyn had injured his back. It wasn’t until Jaime got close and was pushed into the waves by Brienne and their children that he realised it was a trick. Jaime then went against all his oaths and yanked Brienne in with him. 

Whilst they laughed, and smiled, and splashed each other, Lord Selwyn watched, content. 


	61. "Bound" - Jaime and his jailer take pleasure in the other (Canon AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "*offers a veritable shower of Swiss chocolate and a filthy prompt* any canon/AU: any circumstance JB would have sex in public/somewhere they are very likely to get caught? Bonus points for oral and/or food play?" (anonymous)

Brienne entered the tent; her gaze fixed upon her boots. “The Blackfish says we’re making good time. We should be able to join Sansa and Jon before the fighting starts.” 

Ser Jaime Lannister, arms raised above his head, gave a single nod. “Good, _good. _Will they give me a sword, do you think? Or will I be stuck in a tent whilst the battle rages on.”

Brienne ignored him; instead, she crossed the small space and tested Jaime’s bonds. His arms were fixed to the tent pole; his hand and wrist bound in a series of knots of her own design. It was strange that Jaime was, once again, her prisoner. Stripped to breeches and a thin shirt; stubble covering his cheeks and jaw. Sharp green eyes watching her every move. Of course, Jaime was a prisoner of _choice, _now. When those in the Lannister-Frey camp had not agreed with Jaime’s decision to let the Tully forces ride North, he had offered himself as hostage. 

She was his jailer and his protector, amongst _other things. _Brienne lent forward to make sure the knots were comfortable against his skin, completing her duty in that regard. Jaime bent his head forward and pressed his mouth to the open expanse of her neck. She moaned. 

“Quiet, my lady,” he whispered; eyes dark, almost black. “Wouldn’t want the Tully forces to hear how much you want me.”

Brienne slid her hand through his cropped hair and _pulled. _His teeth bit down on his bottom lip, but he did not make a sound. “Who says I do?”

“You could have sent your squire. Instead, you _came _for me.” Jaime wet his bottom lip. “Come closer, Brienne. Feel how much I want you.”

She straddled his hips. The hard jut of his cock pressed against her centre. Smirking, Jaime bowed his head and continued leaving kisses against her neck and throat. Brienne did her best not to moan, to not alert the soldiers standing guard in the Tully camp. Instead, she held Jaime closer; fingers carding through his dark-blonde hair as she encouraged every touch of his mouth, every flicker of his tongue. Her hips rolled against his. Jaime’s teeth nipped at her skin; a bruise that would soon be lost in the wounds of battle. 

Their last journey together had seen them go from adversaries to allies. Their journey to the North had taken them from friends to lovers. 

Gasping, Brienne raised her hands to undo Jaime’s bonds. He growled against her skin. “_No. _Take me like this, Brienne.” 

She pulled back. “Are you sure?”

There was almost no green left in his eyes, now. He swallowed, bucking his hips so she was left with no uncertainty as to the state of his arousal. “I want—” His lips brushed hers in a ghost of a kiss. “I want to be yours.”

Brienne nodded. She left Jaime restrained and began undressing herself. Her tunic was unbuttoned slowly; her fingers fumbling as she thought of Jaime’s mouth on her skin; his cock inside her. Her nipples were hard against the material of her shirt. Her breeches and boots were the last to go. Folded neatly, she undid the ties of the material straining over Jaime’s cock. He was warm and heavy in her hand. 

His head slung back, hitting the pole. His lips formed the words he could not say. _Yes. Please. _

She slid her fingers against her cunt, making sure she was wet enough to take him. Jaime’s arms flexed against the rope as she circled her clit with calloused fingertips. She swallowed a moan as two fingers pressed inside of her. Wet. _So wet. _Jaime had mouthed those words against her skin the first time he’d touched her. Pressed close due to the nightly chill; the impending winter felt with every step North. Their first time. Tonight wouldn’t be their last. 

Brienne straddled Jaime’s hips once again and sunk down upon his cock. 

With Jaime tied up, it was Brienne who took control. Rolling her hips against his; lifting herself off him almost entirely before taking him once more. Jaime’s mouth worked the bare expanse of her throat; sucked her nipples through the material. She took her pleasure in him, pulling Jaime’s head back long enough to stare into his eyes as they rocked together. He was breathing heavily; his bottom lip a torn mess. She kissed him, soothed him. She groaned into his mouth. 

Brienne found an angle that pressed against her clit, and soon her orgasm was building. She came, face buried in the crook of Jaime’s neck as she tried not to scream. A needful gasp against the shell of her ear told her that Jaime, too, was coming. Reluctantly, she pulled away just as he found his release. 

Standing on shaky legs, Brienne found a pail of water and some cloth to clean them both. Podrick would soon return from his watch duty, and all three would need to find some sleep before the battle ahead. 

“I cannot wait for this war to end,” Jaime whispered, as Brienne released his bonds to encourage the blood flow before she would, unfortunately, have to restrain him once again. 

She smiled wistfully at his sentiment. “Would be nice to find some peace.”

“Of course.” His knee nudged hers. “But I’m more looking forward to _finally _hearing the knight of Tarth _scream _for me.”

Despite the cold night air, Brienne’s cheeks flamed. 


	62. "Masquerade" - Jaime attends a masquerade ball (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oooooooo a penny for your thoughts on a jb masquerade fic?" (eldritch-beau)

For the seventh time since they’d left Tyrion’s apartment, Jaime checked his phone. His brother practically batted it out of his hand. “Will you stop? I didn’t invite you all the way here so you could spend all your time on your phone.”

“_Fine,” _Jaime huffed, and slid it into the pocket of his trousers. “I don’t see why I had to come anyway.”

“Because, dear brother, the Tyrell Masquerade Ball is the highlight of the social season, and our sweet sister is stuck in bed with the flu.” Tyrion drained one of the flutes of champagne provided in the back of the limousine. “Drink up, enjoy, and stop moping.” 

Tyrion pressed a glass into his hand; his palm at the base to force it closer to Jaime’s lips. He drained it; thankfully they arrived before his glass could be refilled. The Lannister brothers stepped out of the limousine and were ushered up stone steps to an elegant townhouse in one of the more expensive suburbs of King’s Landing. The waitstaff handed champagne and canapes; their fairy wings both elegant and an annoyance to those passing by. The guestlist, a real _who’s who _of the capital’s social scene, were all dressed in increasingly elaborate costumes and masks. 

When his brother wasn’t looking, Jaime took out his phone. Tyrion snatched it from his hand. “Hey!”

“Don’t _hey _me. Brienne Tarth can wait a few hours for you to text her back.”

“But we—” Jaime sighed, knowing already he had lost this argument. Had repeatedly lost any attempt he’d made to explain to Tyrion _why _Brienne was so important to him, even five years after they’d graduated Winterfell University together. “_Fine. _But I want it back at the end of the night!”

“Hopefully, Jaime, you’ll meet someone and your old college friend will be the _last _person on your mind!”

Considering Brienne was _always _on his mind, Jaime readily disagreed with his brother’s assessment. But he played his part. He sipped champagne; he nibbled expensive mouthfuls of meat and cheese. He bobbed his head to the string quartet. Jaime even smiled at a few women. One of whom took it as an invitation to touch his arm. Despite the mask on her face, he could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Aren’t you _handsome_?” she purred; now running her hands over his chest. 

He swallowed at the way the woman’s hands caressed the lions embroidered on his tunic; the golden buttons and high collar. The lion mask was heavier than it looked; Tyrion wearing a matching one. The woman brushed her thumb against the edge of his mask, touching his cheeks and top lip. 

She pouted under her mask, a purple butterfly. “Want to get out of here, Handsome?” 

“I–I shouldn’t. I _can’t.” _As if on habit, Jaime reached for his phone. “I have a girlfriend. Well, she’s not _really _my girlfriend, but I have feelings for her. I’ve had feelings for her since University but I never did anything about it and now I’m in the Westerlands and she’s in the Stormlands and I haven’t seen her in _years _but we talk every day and I—”

The woman, seeing easier prey, moved on. Jaime found his way to the bar and ordered a drink. “Whiskey sour, please.” 

The bartender handed him his drink, and Jaime propped himself up at the bar as he observed the party. Tyrion was already holding court with a young woman on one arm and a gaggle of male admirers throwing down drinks. If their sister was here, she’d be commanding her own section of the room. Jaime just wanted to go somewhere quiet and text Brienne. _If only he had his phone. _

Just then, a flash of blue caught his eye. A woman was descending the staircase in the main foyer; long fingers caressing the bannister. She was tall in a pair of blue heels; sapphire fabric floating around her legs. The bodice of her dress was a corset; gold ribbon pulling the material taut across her breasts. Like the waitstaff she wore wings, but these were intricate, delicate. Her white-blonde hair fell over her shoulders in waves. Her mask was blue, with a silver moon over one eye. 

“Two glasses of champagne, please.” 

Jaime didn’t know what possessed him to cross the room towards the midnight faerie queen. Perhaps because she seemed as uncertain as he; perhaps because he liked tall women. Either way, he reached her side quickly and offered her one of the glasses of champagne. “A toast.”

She spluttered. “To what?”

“To our first meeting.” Jaime clinked the glass against hers and took a sip. “Something to be celebrated for sure.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrion raised his own glass. Jaime wasn’t entirely without game. And this _striking _woman could be just the distraction he needed from Stormlands museum curators who didn’t return his feelings. 


	63. "Consummation" - Lord Commander Jaime the morning after Brienne's wedding (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any chance for some more LCJaime and QueenBrienne?" (anonymous)

For two years, Jaime had served as Aerys’ Kingsguard. He had stood outside many a door like this, had stood guard by his King, and heard a multitude of horrors. He would not diminish the terror of the Mad King by saying this night was the worst of his life. It was a quiet night, in truth; punctuated by cries of joy as the city celebrated Queen Brienne’s nuptials. There would be no bloodshed, save the smear on his Queen’s bedsheets. This was an ordinary night. 

Somehow, that made it worse. 

Between escorting the Queen to the Sept of Baelor, and watching Lord Selwyn hand his daughter off to Renly Baratheon, Jaime had been struck with a truth he had long tried to deny. He was in love with Brienne. Her smile, her kindness, her skill with a sword. Her laugh, her eyes, her adoration of the old stories. But Jaime had already made his vows to Brienne, and as such just stood and watched the woman he loved marry another. 

And now, stand outside the door where he would bed her. 

Little noise escaped the room. Jaime was thankful for that. As dawn crested over Blackwater Bay, the door to the Queen’s chambers opened. Renly, fiddling with the shirt collar of his wedding tunic, nodded. “Ser Jaime.”

“My Prince. Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Yes, er, _thank you._” Baratheon cleared his throat. “I thought I would go for an early morning walk, enjoy the sunrise. Please inform Her Grace that I will not be joining her for breakfast.” 

Jaime’s brow furrowed as Baratheon practically _ran _in the opposite direction. He’d never been married himself, but the new husbands he’d known liked to take their wife frequently, especially in the hours and days after their joining. As the sole Queensguard on duty, Jaime felt comfortable opening the door to Brienne’s chambers without announcing his intentions. 

She was up; a robe around her shoulders. He had never seen his Queen so forlorn. Brienne turned to him at the sound of the door; quickly darting away. She took in a deep breath, and said, “Could you help me with the sheets, Jaime?” 

He turned towards the bed. The pillows on one side had been slept upon; the others had not. There was no blood on the sheets, nor any indication that Brienne’s new marriage had been consummated. Although her servants were loyal, a misplaced piece of gossip would spread through the Court like the pox. 

“Of course, Brienne.” It was the first time he’d used her full name since that first day. Since she had taken the throne. It felt good to say. 

Together they removed the sheets; stripping pillowcases and blankets. As they worked together, in tandem as they often did when training the Queensguard, Jaime couldn’t help but ask, “Prince Renly is a respectable husband?” 

_As a maiden, you were intimidated and asked him to wait until you were ready, yes? _

“He claims he wishes our affections to grow.” Brienne smoothed a hand across the mattress. “I touched him and he flinched, Jaime. I am no prize, to be sure, but we have a duty to each other nevertheless.” 

“He’s a fool.” Jaime was witness to a brief smirk before a cloud crossed Brienne’s face once more. “I mean it, he’s a bloody fool. I’ll grab the septon; he’ll annul the marriage before breakfast.” 

Brienne sighed. “One wedding was costly enough. And who else would have me?” 

_Me, _Jaime thought. _If there was a way to annul my vows, I would do so in a heartbeat. _


	64. "Stepping Through Time" - Jaime visits a historical experience; an Austenland AU (Movie Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hiya!! So yeah I really am gonna need some paragraphs from the Austenland AU because it sounds DELICIOUS! I offer a warm stack of chocolate chip cookies made with brown sugar instead of white (cuz we all know brown sugar makes a cookie god-tier) 💕" (geerlynotgirly)

Jaime shouldered his duffel bag and disembarked the ferry. On the port was a cardboard cut-out of The Blue Knight, _Oathkeeper _in hand, with a sign advertising ‘_Evenfall’: Westeros’ only interactive historical experience!_ Grinning, Jaime made his way to the small line that had formed. There were a handful of other guests: men like him, hoping for adventure and heroics; women (also like him), hoping for romance and courtly love. 

He couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

After a short wait, a mini-bus that had seen better days pulled up to the kerb. A young man, in a red tunic and fraying breeches, emerged from the driver’s side. He came to the front of the queue. “Good afternoon! I am Podrick, a squire at Evenfall Hall. I have been entrusted to escort you good ladies and fine sers. If you’ll step onboard the carriage, I’ll have you there in no time.” 

The six other guests piled on first; Jaime bringing up the rear. The only seat was close to the front, right beside the driver. Podrick the squire had trouble getting the mini-bus’ gear shift to behave itself. Jaime grinned. “Bet you’re wishing we were on a real horse and carriage right now.” 

Podrick finally got the shift into first gear. “Actually, Ser, with all the storms we get on Tarth, it’s just easier to use the mini-bus. Lightning spooks the horses, y’see.” 

“We’ll still get to ride, though, won’t we?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. Lord Tarth has a very detailed itinerary for your stay. Believe me, you won’t go home unsatisfied.” 

“I hope not.” 

Jaime had made such a _fuss _over attending Evenfall. His father had refused it: _Lannisters do not take holidays, and when they do, they do not play pretend. _His sister had found the notion ridiculous: _why would you want to spend two weeks without technology or proper plumbing? _Tyrion had been the only one who’d found the idea amusing, but had gently reminded Jaime that his obsession with history seemed to be stopping him from enjoying the present. True, he was unlucky in love: few women wanted to discuss the old stories, nor debate the better Valyrian steel sword. 

After he was dumped (yet again), and reprimanded (yet again), Jaime quit and took his inheritance to Tarth. 

As the windy roads of the Stormlands island dissolved into dirt tracks, Jaime looked out his murky window at the rain lashing down. The imposing figure of Evenfall Hall came into view, and Jaime could almost picture a tourney in the grounds; the Blue Knight holding strong in the melee. He hoped there would be a tourney during their visit. He wanted to experience it all: the rush of battle, the joy of wearing a woman’s favour, grabbing the winner’s purse, crowning someone queen of love and beauty. 

Jaime sighed, content, and was jolted forward as Podrick slammed on the brakes. “SORRY! But we’re here.”

After Podrick put on the handbrake, the seven guests trundled off the bus. Two servants in ancient Westerosi garb took their bags. Podrick put his hands behind his bag and addressed the group. “Your luggage will be taken to your rooms. For now, you will be dressed in appropriate clothing and given your backstory for the duration of your stay. Gentleman, you will also see the master-at-arms to be fitted with a sword. Ladies, if you would follow Septa Roelle? Gentleman, if you’d like to follow me.” 

Jaime was first in line, pulling ahead of the three other men. He was taken into the first room, where he was given some period-appropriate clothing. The boots were well-shined, the breeches fitted perhaps a little _too _snug. His tunic was red with embroidered lions upon his chest, and he was fitted with a red cloak. Jaime twirled in the mirror. Oh _yes. _This would do very nicely. 

Next, he was taken to see the master-at-arms. Inside the small room were suits of armour, several shields (including one he recognised as belonging to Ser Duncan the Tall), and a tall, broad man testing the weight of a blade. “Hello?”

“Hello.” 

The man turned around. _Not a man. _Jaime frowned. “The master-at-arms at Evenfall is a woman?”

“She is. If you have an issue with that, you can enjoy your story at Evenfall _without _a sword.” 

“No, no issue. The Blue Knight, after all, was a woman. First female knight in Westeros.” 

The master-at-arms blinked, before turning her attention to the four blades resting atop a velvet blanket. She reached for one with a ruby in its helm, and laid it across her arm to offer him the blade. He took it carefully. A sword felt _bloody _good in his hands. Like he was meant for it. Jaime thrust it forward, before slashing across the air.

The master-at-arms scoffed. “Alright, Goldenhand, it’s a blunt sword. This is a _prop, _you understand? It’s to go in a scabbard and remain there.”

Jaime frowned. “Will we have the opportunity to use real swords?”

“_Yes, _under my direction.” 

The master-at-arms grabbed a sword-belt and wound it around his hips. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. Jaime had to look up to meet her gaze. A blue, electric gaze that had Jaime swallowing. _She’s just an actor. Same as Podrick the squire. She’s probably been in some local commercials. _Once the belt and scabbard were affixed, she took the sword from his hands and shoved it in. He smirked. 

“There.” The master-at-arms brought over some parchment and a quill, writing the number for his sword down. “Do you have a name, Ser? For the inventory?” 

“Ser Jaime of House Lannister.”

The master-of-arms frowned. “Can’t be a real house, Goldenhand. Intellectual property.” 

“But I _am. _Jaime, son of Tywin.” Two eyebrows rose, not quite believing that the former heir to Lannister Holdings would be staying in a historical experience. “_Fine. _I will be Ser Jaime of House Coster. And you?”

“I am Ser Brienne Storm, Lord Selwyn Tarth’s master-at-arms.” There were two raps on the door Jaime had entered minutes earlier. “That is the next knight, Ser Jaime of House Coster. Enjoy your stay at Evenfall.”

“Oh. _I will_.” 

He looked the part. He felt the part. He already had a back-and-forth going with the master-at-arms that Jaime was _determined _to beat in the sparring ring. All he had to do now was find a fair maiden with which to fall in love. 


	65. "Companions" - Ser Jaime visits his dearest friend on Tarth (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "best friends jaime and brienne meet up at their fav diner after they've both been on terrible dates"

The ship docked at Tarth. Jaime disembarked with the crew, nodding to Ser Gerold, the harbourmaster. He’d grown to recognise a lot of the men and women working on Tarth in the past year, so often did he visit the future Evenstar. At first, there were whispers, stares; blatant looks at his golden hand and sharp hisses about his sister, the former Queen. Over time, however, _Kingslayer _had been replaced by _Ser Jaime, a friend of Lady Brienne’s from the war._

“She’ll be glad to see you,” Ser Gerold said, clapping Jaime on the back. “A Ser Hyle Hunt departed this morning.”

Jaime grinned, calling back as he began the familiar walk to Evenfall Hall. “How many ribs did she break?”

“No ribs, but a couple of teeth!”

His smile remained fixed upon his face as he travelled to Brienne’s ancestral home. Lord Selwyn was in King’s Landing with Tyrion, making up two of the seven seats on the Council of Westeros. As such, certain rules had gone by the wayside. Jaime could enter through the servant’s entrance rather than be greeted at the main door. He could snag a lemon tart that the cook had made as he passed through. Jaime barely knocked before entering Brienne’s bedchambers. He just pushed aside the door and reached for the wine. 

Brienne barely concealed her smile as she ignored the papers in front of her. “I thought I saw a Lannister banner in the harbour. Who was it this time?” 

“A daughter of one of my father’s bannermen.”

“_Your _bannermen,” Brienne reminded as she took the wine he offered. Although Tyrion sat on the council, it was Jaime who was lord of Casterly Rock. A lord without a wife, or heirs. “What was wrong with this one?”

“I didn’t wear the hand over dinner. She looked positively ill until I offered to put it on.” Jaime took a sip. “This isn’t half bad. Dornish?” 

“Arrived last week just as you left. How long do you plan to stay this time?”

“Plotting to get rid of me already, Ser?” Brienne faltered; far too honourable to truly play this game of teasing. He took pity on his dear friend. “A couple of days. Just long enough for us to spar and you to work out any aggression Ser Hyle has awakened in you.” 

Brienne made a face. She took herself to the door, and called for one of the servants. Wine, bread, cheese and fruit were summoned, and Jaime removed his cloak before they headed for the balcony. As was their custom, they each took one of the chairs and looked out over Shipbreaker Bay. It seemed a lifetime – _two lifetimes_ – since he had set sail for Dorne and caught sight of Brienne’s island. He had thought he would never see her again. Now Jaime saw her as often as he could. 

When the servants brought them their wine and food, Brienne dismissed them for the day. She had little use for servants, like squires, and both relished being able to talk more openly than their new positions allowed. 

“We had dinner twice. On the second night, he offered his hand in marriage. Said he was not put off by my appearance.” Her thumb traced the edge of the goblet. “’All women look the same in the dark’. I think that’s what he said. I couldn’t quite hear what he said afterwards through all the blood.”

Jaime smirked. “I should have used my golden hand.”

“I wish you’d have been there.”

“Maybe next time, I will. We can scare off your suitors together, Ser.”

His words coaxed a smile upon her face. It was as bright as the sun that had risen over the sea that very morn. Then, as all suns do, it began to fade. “Isn’t it strange: everything we went through, everything we fought for, and we are back where we started. I’m a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and all I do is fend off marriage requests.”

“What you need is a quest.” 

“And a companion for said quest, of course.”

Jaime grinned. You think I’d let you go alone? Pfft. Our swords were forged together, they fight together. Those are the rules.”

The sun returned. 


	66. "Dear You" - Brienne's love letter to Renly ends up with Jaime instead [Teen AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you write more of the Dear You Letter Verse Jaime and Brienne please. Whatever comes to mind! *passes sweets*" (renee561)

Muddy, sweaty, and tired, Brienne Tarth trudged off the rugby field and back inside. She removed her boots at the door, swung them over her shoulder, and climbed the staircase to the girl’s changing rooms. The rest of the school was, thankfully, silent. Even her cohorts on the team had already changed and gone home. After a particularly nasty incident where they’d tried to sneak in on her whilst she showered, Brienne always made sure to stay on the field for as long as possible clearing away the cones and balls. 

Now all she wanted was a long, _hot _shower and to be left alone.

“Hello, Tarth.”

But it seemed as if she wouldn’t get that. “Lannister, are you aware this is the girl’s changing rooms? Or have you been tackled too many times today?”

She knew that wasn’t it. In fact, Lannister had tackled _her _to the ground more than once. Five times, to be exact. He seemed to relish forcing her to the muddy ground, staring above her with bright eyes and a cocky grin. Really, it was her own fault for being so distracted. She had finally – _finally _– got up the courage to tell Renly how she felt, and she was on tenterhooks whilst she waited for a reply. Maybe she should have said it to his face rather than write that letter. 

A letter that looked suspiciously like the one Jaime Lannister held in his hand. 

She swallowed, fearing the worst. “What’s that?” 

“Oh, this?” Lannister grinned as he leant against her locker. His hair was damp with rain and mud was smeared across his cheek, but he still managed to look effortlessly, _annoyingly _beautiful. “It was slipped into my locker over lunch. It’s a love letter.”

“_Lannister_—_”_

He opened the creased, well-worn scrap of paper and began to read. “Dear _you. _I’ve always thought of myself as a brave person, but that bravery has escaped me now. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to say this to you. _I can’t stop thinking about you.”_

_Oh, Gods. _She would kill Margaery for getting Lannister’s locker instead of Renly’s. After she killed Lannister for not even bothering to shower before mocking her. “Can you—”

She moved forward to take the letter but he jumped out the way. “I think about your beautiful smile. I think about the way your hair falls across your eyes. I think about how I feel when I’m with you.” 

“_Please.” _

Brienne sagged against her locker as Jaime Lannister read the tail-end of her love declaration. “When I was younger, I dreamed of finding my handsome knight, like in the old stories. I never thought my dreams would ever be reality.” 

_Oh, Gods. _Margaery had talked her into adding that part. The whole letter, really. _Tell him how you feel. _Instead, Brienne had told Jaime Lannister how she felt. Now she waited for the mockery. 

“_Fuck, _Brienne.” _Here it comes. “_I should have known you’d make the first move. I’ve been wanting to for months, but—” _Wait, what? _Brienne looked at Jaime Lannister. Jaime Lannister who was _smiling _at her. Biting his bottom lip. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.” 

“You–you can’t?” 

He shook his head, teeth bared as he approached. He looked like a lion about to devour its prey. Devour _her. _One hand pressed to the locker by her hip; the other held her chin and brought her head closer to his. “I really want to kiss you, Brienne. Can I kiss you?” 

“Okay.”

No one had ever wanted to kiss her before. Especially not when she was in her rugby kit; covered in mud and rain and sweat. Brienne had imagined her first kiss with Renly a thousand times. It was always gentle before becoming passionate. Her first kiss with Jaime was just like that. He brushed the blonde hair away from her face, ran his thumb across her lips. Then he kissed her. Soft, slow. He took great care kissing her top lip, then sucking her bottom lip gently between his. 

As one of Jaime’s hands cradled her neck, Brienne closed her eyes. She tried to imagine it was Renly kissing her. But he didn’t smell like sweat, and dirt. His teeth didn’t nip at her bottom lip and his hair was not that long when Brienne finally reached across to touch him back, to touch _Jaime. _

He let out a contented sigh as he pulled away. Brienne waited for the punchline. The rest of their teammates to come out with phones taking pictures, video. To tease her for ever thinking that _Jaime Lannister _would have feelings for her. _That _she would understand. Not the soft kiss that Jaime placed to her neck, to her racing pulse. 

“I should shower.” His teeth teased his bottom lip, and Brienne’s stomach somersaulted. _Traitor_. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“O–okay.” 

He left looking deliriously happy. Brienne just stood, utterly baffled. 


	67. "Seven Heavens" - The God of Love and the Goddess of War meet in the mortal realm [Canon AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "then please write Brienne the goddess of war and jaime the god of love falling in love" (remuslovestonks)

“It’s good to see you again.” 

He stood, shackled hand to feet in rags and filth; hair dark and beard untrimmed. A far cry from the last time they had clasped eyes upon each other. In the Heavens: his hair dark-blonde, his face clean-shaven. Crimson robes around his shoulders and eyes only for one maiden. She looked different, here, too. Her hair was shorter than the white-blonde waves that used to splay across his pillows. Her frown more pronounced; her body wrapped in ill-fitting gold armour. 

Those eyes, though. Only a goddess would have those eyes. 

“I wish I could say the same.” 

He huffed. “You still could.” 

Brienne did not answer him. Instead, she tended to the horses Lady Stark had given them to aid their departure from her son’s camp. Jaime was glad to have left that hellhole: Lady Stark’s prayers: to the Mother, to him, had rung in his ears every night. He could only imagine how Brienne struggled. First Baratheon’s camp, then Robb Stark’s: so many soldiers, all praying to the Warrior. Little did they know she stood before them, sword in hand. 

Despite being the God of Love and Innocence, Jaime enjoyed a sword in his hand, too. Not that he could hold much, currently, as his hands were still bound. He raised them to Brienne. “Could you?” 

“Do it yourself. You’re a God, after all.” 

“You know I can’t.” Mortal form; mortal rules. Such edicts proved rather unfortunate when one was captured by a young boy and his pet wolf. “Please, Brienne. You know the rules.”

She snorted. “Funny. You’ve never cared about rules before.” 

He watched Brienne pat both horses on the rear and send them scurrying into the undergrowth. She was _unbelievable. _“You’re bringing up Targaryen. You’re bringing him up _now_?”

“Of _course _I’m bringing him up! Your actions—”

“—saved an entire city. But do explain, once again, how we’re not allowed to intervene once we have foresight. I don’t think it was quite explained to me by the six of you in the _eternity _after I slew Aerys, nor any time afterwards. Why do you think I’ve spent so much time in this mortal realm? It’s to avoid the rest of you!”

“And here I thought it was to spend time with your Queen.” 

Oh. _Oh. _“Green is not a good colour on you, my Lady.” 

“I’m not…I’m not _jealous.” _Her flush told him otherwise. “We need to move; the sooner we get to King’s Landing, the sooner we can part ways.”

A firm hand pressed to the blades of his shoulders and forced him forward. He remembered other times Brienne’s hands had been on him, both on the mortal plain and in the Seven Heavens. There was a time when they could not be parted; when Jaime was unsure where his body ended and hers began. That had been long before Aerys. He’d retreated to the mortal world, reborn in mortal form, to ease a broken heart. 

She had no right to be jealous when she was the one who broke it. Still, a part of him felt it necessary to reassure her. “It’s not love, if that’s what concerns you.” 

“You are made of love, Jaime. You’ve always been blinded by it.” 

“But it’s not love with the Queen. She’s in love with herself, and my mortal form happens to bear a striking resemblance to hers. Not to mention she’s found others to enjoy during my absence from her bed.” 

Brienne’s gaze narrowed. “You’ve been home. Jaime—”

“—you try being stuck in a cell for a _year _and not slipping in and out. It’s just when I sleep. The mortal body rests, and I get to be treated like a god in my own temple back in the Seven Heavens. Are you telling me, Brienne, that you have _never _done the same when you’re in your mortal form? Never been tempted?” 

Her eyes fixated upon a point high in the trees. “I have never acted upon anything I’ve foreseen.” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you will get.” 

“Well, then answer me this: are you jealous? Jealous I’ve laid with another?” 

“You’ve laid with many, I am sure. The God of Love loves freely.” 

Not for the first time, Jaime cursed the restraints of his mortal form. If his hands were free, he would grab at Brienne’s hips and force her closer. He would reach for her hand and feel the pulse in her wrist. He’d stare, deeply, into her eyes and force her to see the truth in his words. 

“The God of Love has only ever loved once. You had my heart. For a millennia, you had my heart.” He swallowed. “You will always have it.” 


	68. "New Boy" - Jaime gets to know his mysterious new roommate, Brienne (TV Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "New Girl Prompt: Jaime moves into a loft with four women after a particularly brutal breakup: Sansa, her (incredibly intimidating) younger sister Arya, their friend Margery, and Brienne (a reclusive, unbelievably tall bookworm who has only ever spoken two words to him). Jaime is intrigued and wants to find out more about her." (geerlynotgirly)

Jaime pointed his spoon at the blue door just off the kitchen. “What’s in there?” 

Margaery just sipped her coffee. “Oh, that’s Brienne’s room.” 

“Brienne.” He slouched over the kitchen island, staring intently at the blue door. “You know, I still haven’t met her?”

A shrug. His roommate didn’t seem concerned that he had yet to meet one of his living companions. “She enjoys her privacy.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt end as Margaery had to run for a meeting with a junior editor, and Jaime was late for his shift in the bar across the street. In a lull, however, Jaime noted down everything he knew about his mysterious roommate. The loft was originally hers, he recalled, and she’d rented two rooms out to her colleague’s two children: Sansa and Arya (whose room Jaime now occupied). Margaery had taken the fourth room when she’d moved to Storm’s End. 

That was it. He didn’t even know her surname, nor what she looked like. 

Later that evening, with the blue door still closed, Jaime broached the topic with Sansa. “Why are there no pictures of Brienne in the loft?” 

Snaps of Margaery, Arya, and Sansa were pinned everywhere. Even a photo of Jaime, taken his first day, had been stuck to the wall. Again, he was met with a shrug. “Brienne doesn’t like her picture taken.”

It was at this point that Jaime suspected his new roommate was actually a serial killer. 

Over the next couple of weeks, Jaime tried to build a profile of Brienne from what little he could glean from around their flat. One time, he got up to pee, and found a pair of running shoes missing. When he woke again, they had been returned to their rightful place. Jaime collected the post one morning and found a thick letter addressed to a _Brienne Tarth _with a Sapphire Isle postage stamp affixed in the corner. She had absolutely no social media presence. He did, however, find three of her books on Valyria, the online retailer. 

He was reading one, spoon digging through the cereal in his red bowl, when that blue door opened. Jaime dropped his spoon to the countertop, milk spilling across the granite, when he finally caught a glimpse of Brienne Tarth. _Fuck, she was tall. _“Good morning.”

A crease appeared in her forehead. “Did you use all the milk?”

“No.” _What? _“No, I think there’s some left in the fridge.”

“You _think, _or you _know_?” 

“Why don’t you check the fridge for yourself?” 

Brienne frowned, and walked over to the refrigerator. She shook the carton of milk, huffed through her nostrils, and grabbed the kettle. Jaime took another mouthful of cereal before shaking his empty mug at her. “If you’re making one. Four sugars.” 

He’d fully intended on being nice to his new roommate. Margaery and Sansa had welcomed him – unemployed, brokenhearted – into their home and given him a place to stay. But his first conversation with Brienne had put him on the backfoot. She treated him as if he was a squatter in her loft, rather than someone who paid rent and bought food and fixed the wireless router. Jaime offered his most charming smile as she made him a cup of tea, but she still slammed it down upon the counter. 

“Have I done something to upset you?” he asked. 

“Why would you think that?”

He was clearly becoming one of the gang: he answered with a shrug. “I get the distinct impression you want to shove my face into my cereal.”

“That would be a waste of good food.”

“Well, then, you want to shove my spoon up my arse. Either way, you don’t seem to care for me very much and I’m just wondering what I’ve done to piss you off so quickly.” 

Brienne took a sip of her tea. “I know your type. I know what trouble you’ll bring, and I don’t want to involve myself in it.” 

“My type?” 

“Rich. Good-looking. _Arrogant. _It won’t be long before you’re running back to daddy. But before then I fully expect you to try and sleep with the women in this loft, make hideous changes to the way we live that we later can’t afford, and just be an utter _wanker_ until you leave your key behind.”

_Oh. _So that was what she thought of him. She wouldn’t be the first. Probably wouldn’t be the last. _Fine. _Jaime grabbed his empty cereal bowl and walked over to the countertop where Brienne stood. He placed his bowl in the sink and let his gaze wander from her bare feet to the piercing blue eyes staring right back. She was something, alright. Could certainly see why she didn’t want her photograph taken. 

“Don’t worry, Brienne. If I do decide to sleep with anyone in this loft, I can honestly say that it won’t be you.” 

The sound of the blue door slamming was not quite the sound of victory he’d hoped it would be. 


	69. "Sunbeam" - The God of Love has fallen for one of his fellow deities, sequel to '66' (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "*rattles empty can* spare Jaime/Brienne Gods AU, milady?? i'd trade you this blueberry muffin i've got for lunch (if you're into that lil delicacy)" (eldritch-beau)

The acolytes to the God of Love fussed around him, but Jaime paid them little attention. Wine was poured, grapes offered, yet he just stared at the blue flower in his grasp. A strong stem, soft petals. The colour as vivid as deep waters, or the eyes of the Goddess of War. The corners of Jaime’s mouth lifted in a smile as he thought about those eyes. As he thought of _her. _

“Is everything well with you, my Lord?”

Jaime turned from the bloom in his grasp to his High Septa. A small woman with a pinched face, she had been a dedicated acolyte of his since the very beginning. Unlike the new devotees to his worship, Septa Aurane had served him as the God of Love rather than the Maiden. She had seen him at his worst, and at his best. And she knew, more than any other, when something was occupying his thoughts. 

“Everything is well indeed, Aurane. I think…” He wet his top lip, stroking the edge of one of the blue petals. “I think I may be in love.” 

She nodded. “I can have her brought to you, my Lord.”

“No, _no, _she’s not…she’s not _human.”_ Aurane raised a single eyebrow. Over the centuries, Jaime had become _smitten _with a handful of humans who had arrived in the Seven Heavens. But it was nothing as deep, or as true, as what he felt now. “It’s Brienne.”

“The Goddess of War. A…_curious _choice for your affections.” 

Jaime fell back against the chaise, slipping the blue flower into his hair. “I’ve known her since I’ve known myself, but I’ve never…we were in the mortal realm, and she fought some unruly peasant. Her skill with the blade, the way she moved…” He sighed, content in his perfect recall of that singular moment. “I have not been able to stop thinking of her since.” 

“Perhaps you should go to her, my Lord. Make your feelings known. Perhaps she feels the same.” 

“I’m the God of Love, Aurane. I can feel it, _sense _it. Her feelings are cloudy.” 

“You were once known as the Golden Gold; as bright as any sun. If any could part the clouds, it would be you.” Aurane bowed her head. “Forgive my boldness, my Lord.” 

“No, you’re right. I shall attend to her.” He grinned. “Perhaps she is in need of counsel from the God of Love.”

He and Aurane shared a smile, and she called upon his acolytes to attend to him. Bathed, shaved, and dressed in the finest robes of crimson and gold, Jaime sought out his love. He found Brienne outside her Sept within the Seven Heavens; her own acolytes devoted soldiers and shieldmaidens. She sparred with one on the steps; her blade swooping down to meet steel in an ugly crash. The boy looked delighted to be defeated by the Warrior herself. 

Just as delighted as Brienne was to have claimed victory. Jaime wore a poor imitation of her eyes in his hair; the petals pale and lifeless when compared to the real thing. They grew sharp, unsure, when they caught his gaze. 

“Jaime.”

“Brienne.”

She turned to her acolytes. “Leave us.” 

They did as they were bid, and the God of Love and the Goddess of War were soon left alone. Brienne circled him as she would an opponent: forming theories as to his reasons for visiting her; calculating his weaknesses lest this dissolve into a bout. She need not bother. On both counts, the answer was _her. _

“You have never visited me here.”

“I have never had a reason to before today.” 

Her mouth formed a thin line. “So what _has _brought you to my door?”

“I have a gift,” he said, hands empty. Taking a step forward, he raised his fingertips to his golden mane and slipped the blue flower from the strands. He did not offer it like a young squire would court a serving girl, but instead placed it in the waves of moonlight brushing Brienne’s broad shoulders. “I saw the bloom and I thought of you.”

“_Oh.”_

Her cheeks flushed; Jaime’s eyes glinting at the surety of her feelings. “Are you _blushing_?”

She responded with a hand shoving his chest. “The Goddess of War does _not _blush.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing…I like it.” _I like you. _

A wave of affection rolled through him, as warm as any sunbeam. 


	70. "House Rules" - Jaime and his new roommate continue to but heads, sequel to '67' (TV Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "*pushes you a plate of chocolate chip cookies* more of the jb new girl au pls?" (anonymous)

Relations in the loft continued to be as stormy as the Kingdom Jaime found himself in. The blue door often remained closed, but Brienne’s presence was felt in other, more subtle ways. The photograph of Jaime that had been taken on his first day in the loft had been replaced by a graduation picture of Brienne, Margaery, and two other men (albeit a crease running through one of them). The wifi password had been set to wolf_rose_sun714, blatantly ignoring the lion that paid a quarter of the rent. And there was never, _ever _milk in the refrigerator anymore. 

That was _just _fine. Two could play at that game. 

One rare morning, when all of them were in the loft, Jaime left the bathroom after his shower in need of a refreshing glass of water. The crimson towel hung low on his hips; water dripping down his golden skin. He entered the kitchen, nodding at all three of his roommates. 

“Morning ladies.” He filled a glass with tap water. “Morning Brienne.” 

She scowled. “The common spaces are _fully-clothed _areas, Jaime. No one wishes to be put off their breakfast by the sight of you in a towel.”

“Everyone seems hungry to me.” His tongue darted out to wet his top lip. Sansa squeaked and busied herself with her teabag; Margaery chewed on the crust of her toast. “_I _think we should have semi-bare breakfast. It’s too early for clothes. Don’t worry, Brienne. It is optional. Like you say: no one wants to be put off their breakfast.” 

Slamming down her mug, Brienne swept out of the room and through the blue door just off the kitchen. He took another sip of water, satisfied. His two roommates, however, were anything but.

“We like you, Jaime,” Margaery began.

“We do!”

“But Brienne is one of our best friends. You could try being a little nicer to her.”

“It’s not _personal,” _Jaime said, doing his best impression of his father. “Anyway, _she started it,” _he continued, doing his best impression of a five-year-old. 

Still, he agreed to try a little more with Brienne. However, Margaery and Sansa had not had a similar conversation with _her, _as things only escalated between them. During his morning shower, Brienne suddenly found the need to wash the dishes. Emerging from the freezing water, Jaime had tried to find the new teabags he’d bought for the loft, only to find them in a carrier bag back in his room. But it was one weekend morning that _really _went over the line. 

For the first time since moving into the loft, Jaime had an overnight guest. A sweet young woman, they’d met during his bartending shift. They hadn’t _done _anything: Jaime didn’t care for meaningless sex, and he was still getting over his break up with Cers*i. But she was nice, and she needed a place to sleep. When he awoke on his bedroom floor, he could hear talking in the kitchen. 

He padded through to find Brienne talking with Lucy. “Morning.” 

Jaw slack, face pale, Lucy quickly scrambled off the bar stool. “I should go.”

Jaime frowned. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No–no, I’ll…” She clutched tightly at her purse. “Don’t call me.” 

He watched Lucy make her quick exit, before rounding on Brienne. She stood, smirking around the rim of her mug. He slammed both hands against the breakfast bar. She didn’t even flinch. “_What did you do?”_

“We just made conversation. I told her about your _awful _break up with your sister.”

_Fuck. _“Stepsister. She was my _stepsister_.”

“Must have missed that part out. Still doesn’t make it any less creepy, though.” 

“I can’t believe you did that.”

She took a sip of her tea. “We have a rule about overnight guests.”

“Like you’d ever have one! Have you_ even_ had sex?” Two pink spots appeared on Brienne’s cheeks. He laughed. “You haven’t, have you? I’m not surprised. You know, I’d be more than happy to be your first. I like to do an act of charity every year.” 

“Not sure you’d be able to get it up as we share no DNA,” she snarled.

“She was my _stepsister. _And I’m surprised you’re not familiar with the concept, considering your face is only something a mother could love. Or father. Or a horse, if he was blind in one eye.” 

Instead of folding in on herself, Brienne actually smiled. “You know, whenever I think I’ve gone too far with you, you always prove my first judge of your character _exactly _right.”

That _she _was right filled Jaime with disgust. He’d left King’s Landing, his family, to get _away _from all this. Yet, when challenged, he reverted back to type. _Fuck. _


	71. "Homeward Bound" - Jaime gets on the flight home to Tarth (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Friends to lovers prompt: J&B go to Tarth for the holidays every year. Brienne knows Jaime can't stand his family, so Selwyn has pretty much adopted his daughter's best friend. He knows they're obviously in love and has some machinations in mind to make this the year they finally share their feelings with each other." (wildlingoftarth)

“Thank you for taking me to the airport.” 

Melara’s arm snaked around Jaime’s hip; her middle finger tapping him on the tip of his nose. “Don’t be silly! That’s what girlfriends _do, _Jay.” 

“Right. Sure. Listen, I’m sorry you can’t come. The guest room is out of action _again—”_

Another tap to his nose. “It’s _okay, _Jay. I know you’ll be thinking about me _every.” _Another tap._ “Single.” _Bop, bop. _“Moment. _Say hi to your sister for me.” 

Jaime wrenched Melara away, keeping her at arm’s length. Jaw locked, he gritted his teeth and said, “She is _not _my sister. It’s important to me that you know that, alright? Brienne is _not _my sister.”

“I _know. _It’s just you call her place _home _and you spend the holidays there…I thought you _maybe _thought of her as a sister.” 

“She’s my best friend. My _oldest _friend.” He checked the large clock in King’s Landing airport. “I should go; I don’t want to miss my connecting flight. Thanks again.”

“I love you.” 

Jaime swallowed. He bent down and brushed his lips against Melara’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As he walked away, Jaime winced at his last words. ‘_I’ll see you soon’?_ What even _was _that? Couldn’t he have had the decency to _lie _and tell Melara that he loved her back? Sighing, Jaime waited in line at security for his flight back home to Tarth. He’d talk it out over a drink with Selwyn, figure out how to end it. Three months and all Jaime could accumulate was a _mild _fondness for her. Best to end it now before she got too hurt. 

After passing through security, Jaime handed his ticket to the flight attendant and settled on his flight to Storm’s End. From there, it would be a small charter plane to Tarth’s runway, and then a thirty-minute car journey home. _Home. _Ever since his classmate at Tarth College had brought him back to hers for dinner, Jaime had thought of Brienne’s house as his. He had his own room; had post delivered there. He felt loved, and welcomed, in a way he had never felt at Casterly Rock. 

A large part of that was due to Brienne. His former classmate. His dearest friend. The woman who was decidedly _not _his sister. 

Jaime waited in the departure lounge for _Sapphire Isle Air_; glancing towards the board every few seconds for the flight from Winterfell. It killed him that Brienne lived so far away. There was a constant knot in his stomach: homesickness, he’d long decided, that only eased when in Brienne’s presence. 

“JAIME!”

And there she was. Blonde hair a little longer, blue eyes just as bright. She dropped her duffel bag by his feet and threw her arms around his shoulders. Jaime wasted no time in holding her back just as tightly. It had been Warrior’s Day the last time they’d seen each other. Maiden’s Day just before that. The joy of a septuple faith: he was guaranteed at least seven instances every year where he could see his best friend. 

When they pulled apart, Brienne ran a hand through his hair. “Work not going well?”

“You got that from my hair?” 

She pulled on one of the strands falling into his eyes. “Well, _clearly _you can’t afford a haircut.” 

“I like it this long.”

“You look like you’re from some boyband.”

“Well, I guess this visit you’re going to have to be the pretty one.”

“Pretty, smart, strong—”

“—no, _no, _if I can’t be pretty then I get to be the muscle.” He proved that be slinging her duffel bag over his shoulder. “I can carry both our bags _and _you to the checking-in desk.”

“As I don’t wish to spend the long weekend refilling the hot water bottle for your back, I’ll concede. _You’re the strong one.” _She nudged his shoulder. “And you’re still pretty.”

He gave a mock sigh of relief. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Laughing, the pair of them moved towards the desk to begin boarding their flight. They had two seats up front for the legroom; Brienne stretching out her long limbs whilst Jaime opened his complimentary bag of peanuts. He offered one to Brienne. 

“Would you like to taste my nuts?” 

Her face collapsed into her hands; her scream muffled. When she emerged, he was laughing. “Every flight. _Every flight. _You know, I’m going to get one of those little drink bottles so I can start playing the Jaime Lannister drinking game early.”

He tossed a peanut into his mouth. “Dare I ask what’s on the list?”

“You try and best me in a fight. You roar like a lion when you’re drunk. You say, at least once, that there are no men like you.” 

“That’s true, though. I mean, have you ever met one?” 

Brienne snorted. “You’re _hopeless. _I even tried to explain the rules to Hyle in case Dad managed to sort out the guest room, but he decided to repaint. _Again.” _

Ever since Jaime and Brienne had left Tarth to carve out their own paths in Westeros, the guest room had been out of action. Furthermore, Selwyn had surprisingly archaic rules of men and women sleeping in the same room together. Something he’d had no issue with when his daughter brought home a lion who had never, _ever _left. Still, neither he nor Brienne complained too loudly. It was best when it was just the two of them. 


	72. "Squire" - Jaime becomes Brienne's squire (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime is Brienne’s squire for some reason!" (Canon AU)

The ship pulled into the Tarth harbour. This was the closest Jaime allowed himself to Westeros, even after all these years. Most would know the name _Lannister_; few would recall Tywin’s son and heir who had disappeared for the Free Cities one day. No one in the Stormlands would recognise his face. Yet he still felt his shoulders stiffen; a cold trail of fear run up his spine. He adjusted the material around the lower half of his face and kept his head down.

“Oi, Hill, keep it moving!” 

Jaime did as he was bid and continued moving the supplies from Myr onto the dock. It was wet and cold on Tarth, and Jaime felt his shirt stick to his back as he moved crate after crate. This was hardly work befitting his station, but the gold he and his _dear _sister had taken had run low quickly, and she had stolen the rest when she had returned to Westeros. Jaime earned his passage however he could. He kept hold of his gold, too: he didn’t spend it on wine or women like his shipmates. 

Which was how, looking over a worn map over where to go next, that Jaime caught the stowaway. 

“Captain doesn’t take too kindly to those who don’t pay their way.”

The figure cut a broad shadow. “I have gold.”

“Do you, now?” Jaime reached for the candle and shone it into the bowels of the ship. The stowaway was a _woman. _Tall, with broad shoulders and a sharp jaw. Eyes bluer than the waters he’d sailed upon; a face plainer than any woman he had ever seen. She’d find work in some of the bawdier mummer’s productions, no doubt. “Where do you wish to go?” 

“The mainland.” 

Jaime sighed and tucked himself back into his hammock. “This ship is going to Myr. I suggest you take your gold and fuck off to another vessel.” 

“Fine.” She drew herself up as tall as she could. “_Thank you.”_

Jaime watched her grab her cloak and bag. He shouldn’t interfere. Clearly, the maiden had reasons to venture from Tarth to the mainland. A beau in a lord’s household, perhaps; more likely, a desire to join the Faith of the Seven. It was the bundle of rags that he knew – he just _knew _– held a sword that made him enquire about the stowaway with the sapphire eyes. 

“What do you intend to do on the mainland?” 

“I—” She faltered; blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe he had asked after her intentions. “There is a tournament at Storm’s End to celebrate the betrothal of Lord Renly and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. I mean to compete as a mystery knight.” She swallowed. “Go on. _Laugh.” _

Perhaps, long ago, he would laugh. Instead, he just sat there, envious. She wanted to be a knight and was risking stowing away with a group of unruly sailors in order to do so. Jaime had wanted to be a knight, once. Fascinated by the old stories, he’d fancied himself Arthur Dayne. Had even thought he could be; his skill with a blade was undeniable. But that was _before. _He’d barely swung a sword in years. 

“I wish you luck, my Lady. You’ll need it.”

She smirked. “I don’t _need _luck. I have skill.” 

Oh, _oh, _Jaime was starting to _like _this girl. As cocky as he had been, although not as good, no doubt. “Skill will only take you so far. You need gold, armour, a _squire_—”

“—I have all those things. Well, I _will._ I have gold, and I can commission armour when I arrive on the mainland. And I’ve been fighting for _many _a year, I do _not _need a squire.” She wrinkled her nose. “You seem to know a lot about this. Are you a knight?” 

He huffed out a laugh, even though the assumption left a weight upon his chest. “No, I’m not a knight. I could have been, once, but I chose love.” 

At least, _he _had been in love. His sister had loved his devotion to her. She had loved the prospect of the crown even more. His love had taken everything from him: his home, his family, his dream since he was a child. Something must have shown in his face because the shieldmaiden in front of him suddenly wore a look of pity. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine ever giving up the chance to be a _knight.” _She frowned. “Do you really think I need a squire?” 

“Yes. All the best knights have squires. If you want to be taken seriously, you’ll need one.”

She dug into her cloak and retrieved a small drawstring purse. Retrieving a gold dragon, she held it out to him. “There’s more if I win the purse at Storm’s End. And there’s tournaments at Summerhall, Ashford, Bitterbridge…even Riverrun! I could make you a very rich man.”

“I have no desire to be a rich man.” If he did, he’d return to Lannisport and face his father’s wrath. 

“I can’t make you a knight. Not yet, anyway.” She looked at the creased map in his lap; the place names smudged and illegible. He’d been everywhere and nowhere; searching for something to replace his devotion to his sister. “I could give you purpose.” 

“You don’t know me.”

“You wanted to be a knight. You must be an honourable man.” 

Thinking every knighted man was honourable and just would quickly get her killed. Sighing, Jaime took the offered dragon. He wouldn’t have her death on his conscience if he let her go out into the world as naive as this. Perhaps he _had _missed the sound of a tourney arena, too; the smell of leather and the feel of steel in his hand. 

Whatever his reasons, after twenty years, Jaime Lannister was finally returning home. 


	73. "Children's Table" - Brienne meets Jaime at a wedding (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi!Today is my birthday, I just turned 29yo and I'm pretty sad , cause I'm still single and have never been with anyone before, in all my 29 years in this world - not even a kiss or holding hands or anything actually:( So I was wondering if you would like to write something with Brienne being my age and still alone and with no experience with dating/relationships, but then she meets Jaime. Maybe in a ModernAU setting?Or maybe you know some fics like that and can recommend them to me? Thank you!" (anonymous)

“Oh, I think there’s been a mistake?” Brienne asked, calling after the wedding planner as she walked past. “I seem to be on the children’s table.” 

The planner pinned a sickly sweet smile to her features. “Don’t be silly, dear. That’s the _singles _table.” 

“_Right.” _

The planner did not give Brienne a second moment of her time; instead, she darted off to attend to another issue in the Stark-Maegyr nuptials. Drawing in a tight breath, Brienne followed the directions to table 28. She knew a few of the children: Rickon, Sam Tarly’s boy. The kids of Talisa’s friends. And there was her place setting, ‘Brienne Tarth’. She’d been invited as a courtesy: she worked with Robb’s mother at Winterfell University, and Catelyn had made several comments about Brienne getting out more. 

Sitting at the back with a bunch of adolescents was surely not what her mentor had had in mind. 

Still, at least she wouldn’t be interrogated as to her constant singledom and her lack of plus one. Maybe she could steal some of the colouring sheets the guest on her left had been given. Coloured crayons in various reds and golds; sheet after sheet of lions and knights. The place setting read ‘Jaime Lannister’. Brienne frowned. She didn’t think the Starks knew any Lannisters. 

Behind her, someone barked out a laugh. She turned, and was faced with the most beautiful man she had ever seen. One of Talisa’s friends, no doubt. They were all so lithe and beautiful. Probably why the wedding planner had stuck Brienne in the back. 

The man reached down and plucked Jaime Lannister’s place setting from the table. He grinned. “And here I thought the Starks didn’t have a sense of humour.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

He showed her the place setting. “I’m Jaime Lannister. _Oh, _and they even gave me something to do whilst old Ned raves about how _proud _he is of his boy.” The man dragged out his chair, nodded at the five-year-old beside him, before turning to Brienne. “So, how did you rate the children’s table?” 

“I was told it was the singles table.” 

Jaime winced. “Ouch.”

“Quite.” 

If being relegated to the children’s table wasn’t bad enough, now Brienne had to suffer through the wedding with what was the most gorgeous man in all of Westeros. Dark golden hair fell across his face; a salt and pepper beard covered his jaw. His green eyes were vivid and deep and Brienne felt her cheeks flush when she caught his gaze once or twice. _Fuck. _

Whilst the rest of the wedding guests took their seats, their table busied themselves with school talk and colouring. Seeing she had no paper, Jaime passed her a picture of a knight and a gold-coloured crayon. “So, can you tell time yet?” 

Brienne snorted, and began shading in the knight’s helm. “I hope so. I’m doing my PhD at Winterfell University. You?”

“I keep getting the threes and the nines muddled up.” He smirked, and Brienne found herself warming to the man beside her. _He’s just being nice. You’re the only person he has to talk to. _“So, no plus one? I’m surprised.” 

Her crayon hesitated over the paper. “Everyone says that. They say it so politely, so _pitying.” _She began scrubbing at the paper so hard her crayon stabbed right through. “I know what I look like. I’ve long accepted I won’t get to have children, or be married, or hold hands, or be kissed—”

“—you’ve never been kissed?” 

She held her crayon out like a dagger, pointing it at the man’s eyes. “Don’t judge me. Not everyone looks like the Warrior reborn. I bet you could smile at the bride and she’d elope with you.” 

He shrugged. “Probably.“ Jaime took the torn colouring paper, balled it, and threw it in one of the rubbish bins nearby; earning the respect of most of the children round their table. Rickon shared with him his blue crayon, and Jaime gave her a lion to colour in. “I’ve only ever kissed one person.”

Brienne stared at him. Jaime was eight, perhaps even ten years older than her. “That sounds rather romantic.” 

“It would be if she’d only kissed me, too.” He slumped back in his seat. “Trust me, I might have ticked a few boxes off the list, but there’s still a whole bunch of things I’ve never experienced. I turn forty next year, and I’ve never woken up beside someone.” 

“There’s still time. You’re not _that _old.” He dropped his jaw, placing a hand upon his chest, as if he was _offended _by the notion and did not look like a thousand older man fantasies Brienne had had through the years. “I _mean, _my friend’s grandmother is getting remarried next month. There’s always time.” 

“Olenna Tyrell?”

Brienne nodded, a crease forming in her brow. “Yes.”

Jaime grinned. “She’s marrying my father. The granddaughter’s planning it all, right?” Another nod. “See if she can’t get some colouring sheets for the guests. I’m really enjoying myself.” 

Brienne honestly thought he was joking. Why would Jaime Lannister, who was used to high-end cocktail parties and lavish events, be satisfied sitting beside _her _and scribbling in a colouring book? But then she saw his picture. A knight, coloured deep blue, with their hair as golden as the crayon in Brienne’s hand. Their eyes were the exact same shade as hers. She caught Jaime grinning, and found her own mouth lift into a smile. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being at the children’s table after all. 


	74. "Love child" - Teens Jaime and Brienne have to take care of a baby (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Teen Au prompt! JB are paired up for home ec and must care for a fake child (Jaime 100% posts a pic of them prepairing their unit with the caption "making babies")" (anonymous)

PSHE was the only one of Jaime’s lessons where he was comfortable sitting in the back row. Everything else, he needed to sit up close so he could get a better view of the whiteboard. But not in this class. In PSHE, he could sit in the back on the left-hand side. In the right corner was _her. _Brienne Tarth. Jaime tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He’d had a crush on her since primary school. 

She caught him staring, as she often did, and scowled into her book. 

The teacher, Septa Donyse, got the attention of the class. “Today begins our annual project. This year, it’s taking care of a child.” She handed out pamphlets to the student at the end of each row; Jaime passing his across two empty seats towards Brienne. “You’ll each partner with someone to take care of a doll for two whole weeks. Every day, I will require you to update your progress online for feedings, changings, etc. There is an _app _you can download, and the headmaster has _reluctantly _allowed you access to your phones for the next two weeks so you can receive alerts.”

Septa Donyse then retrieved a cardboard box from behind her desk, filled with the dolls. “Now, pick your partners.” 

A few heads turned to stare at Jaime; two girls already rising in their seats to claim him. But he knew who he wanted. And with Baratheon out sick, Brienne didn’t have her usual partner. He and Tarth were having a baby!

Just as Jaime stood up to join Brienne, Connington raised his hand. “Hey, Septa Donyse, do you think Tarth could be excused?” 

Bushy slapped Connington on the back, joining in on the ‘joke’. “Yeah, I mean, Tarth’s _never _gonna have sex, so it’s not like she needs to learn how to take care of a baby.”

The rest of the class, apart from Jaime, burst into laughter. Connington, enjoying the attention, continued. “Yeah, it’s not really fair to Tarth to make one of us her partner. Getting her hopes up that anyone would want to raise a kid with her is kind of mean.” 

“Enough, Mister Connington, enough!”

The class quietened at Septa Donyse’s outburst. Connington dropped to his seat and scowled at being reprimanded; Mister Tarly let them get away with murder in PE. Still, it came too late for Brienne. Her face was ruddy; her knuckles white as she clenched her books. Jaime saw her hand trembling as she raised it. 

“Yes, Miss Tarth?”

“Can I go to the loo, please?”

Septa Donyse nodded. “Of course. I’ll allocate a partner for you.”

“Thank you.”

Brienne did her best not to run out of the class. But she was mocked, and jeered, as she made her departure. Jaime didn’t relish a string of detentions for punching Connington in the mouth, but he did kick at the chair he leant back on as Jaime passed to the front. A few of the girls in their class still tried to get his attention, but Jaime ignored them all. 

“I’ll partner with Brienne.” 

Septa Donyse raised an eyebrow. “I will not tolerate bullying in my classroom, Mister Lannister.”

“Nor do I. Let me have one of the dolls, and we’ll work in the library for the rest of the period.” 

She was right to be wary. Jaime didn’t have the best reputation; he was sarcastic and biting at times, but he was never a _bully. _Still, the Septa agreed to list Jaime and Brienne as partners. He took the doll, who had her mother’s bright blue eyes, and made his way to the girl’s toilets. Brienne had once told his younger brother to _never let them see you cry. _Everyone knew what she was doing, but at least she didn’t give them the satisfaction of witnessing it. 

“Hopefully you’ll grow up brave like your mummy,” Jaime said to the baby doll he carried in his arms. He shouldered open the door. “Tarth?”

A tampon was thrown at his head. “This is the girl’s toilets, Lannister!”

“Not as clean as I’d thought it would be.” 

There was toilet paper stuck to the ceiling, the sanitary towel dispenser was broken, and there was graffiti everywhere. A lot of rude words about _Brienne the Beauty, _and more than a few comments of _I bet Lannister has a big cock. _Smirking, Jaime crossed to the stall at the far end. 

“We’re partners for the project, Brienne.” 

“_Why_?”

“Because I want to be the father of your children.” She scoffed from inside the stall. Jaime wasn’t joking. He’d had many a daydream about them together, married, with unusually tall children. He knocked again. “Listen, Tarth, you’re hardworking. I figured with you as my partner, I’ll get a good mark.”

The stall door opened. Her brow creased, momentarily, as she took in the sight of him cradling their love child. “I will _not _do all the work.”

“I never said you would. I’m rather attached to little Joanna,” he said, bouncing the toy baby in his arms. Felt nice. 

“You’ve named our baby _Joanna.”_

_“_After my mother. Joanna Lannister-Tarth. Or Tarth-Lannister. Either way, she’s got your blue eyes and my good looks. We’ll probably have some agent asking her to do baby modelling or something.” 

There was a flicker or a smile. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yes, well I’m an idiot you had unprotected sex with, and now we have a child together.” 

Brienne’s face flushed at the mention of _sex. _Jaime just smiled and held their plastic lion cub closer. This project was going to be so much fun. 


	75. "First Steps" - Lord Commander Jaime witnesses his daughter's first steps (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Either Jaime getting to see one of the babies’ first steps or hear their first word in LC!Jaime/Queen!Brienne. ❤️❤️❤️ (or both!)" (agirlnamedkeith)

“You’re being stubborn.”

Queen Brienne, first of her name, scowled like a petulant child. “It makes perfect sense to me. If they can’t defeat me in a bout, how do they think to protect me?” 

Jaime quickly realised he was fighting a losing battle. He sighed. “To this day, _Your Grace, _the only swordsman who has ever beaten you is _me.”_

“Which is why I made you my Lord Commander.” 

Brienne smiled, and for a moment the entire world fell away. It was he, and her, and Princess Catelyn cradled in her mother’s arms. The three of them, with Brienne’s bright smile a perfect counterpoint to the cloudy afternoon. _Gods, _what he wouldn’t give to spend every moment like this. Witnessing Brienne’s smile, her eagerness, and their daughter’s adorable babbling. Ten moons had passed since Brienne had given birth, and Cat had only grown more bright, more beautiful. 

“Forgive me my impertinence, your Grace!” The boy from the Stormlands who wished to be appointed to the Kingsguard broke the spell that had fallen over them. Jaime would dismiss him just for that. “If you wish to continue to hold Princess Cat, I would be more than happy to spar with Ser Jaime in your stead.” 

“Knock him on his arse,” Jaime hissed, reaching out to take Cat from Brienne’s arms. He longed to knock down any man who dared insinuate that Brienne was not both Mother and Warrior. “I’ll hold the future heir to the throne.” 

Whilst Brienne’s squire prepared her sword, Jaime carried Cat over to a nearby bench where they could watch Brienne’s victory. He was always wary of being too overfamiliar in public with Brienne’s children; it would not do the woman he loved, nor the child they shared, any favours if he was known as the true father. But he’d overheard one of his knights discuss his _brotherly _affection towards the Queen (an irony that would be lost on nearly everyone in Westeros) and so he felt it safe to hold his daughter as long as he didn’t cradle her too close. 

“_Mama.”_

“Yes, that’s your mother.” Cat had started talking a few weeks ago; her first words occurring in a Small Council meeting. _Mama _was a favourite of hers, along with _no _(something she often said to Uncle Stannis). Jaime grinned as Cat pointed a chubby hand towards Brienne. “She’s fighting a knight.”

“Mama.”

“Do you think she’s going to win?” He paused for a moment, balancing Cat on his knee as his daughter angled forward. “I think she’s going to win.”

“Mama _jab.” _

Jaime chuckled; his daughter mimicking him. “Yes, she’s going to do a lot of that.” 

In front of them, Brienne took the young knight through his paces. He was good, but overprivileged. He’d probably grown up with young boys who could barely hold a sword, and that had given him an inflated ego. Brienne would toy with him, give him a few close calls that were obviously staged to everyone with a pair of eyes, before finishing him off. Her daughter, seemingly, wanted to play with her mother. Cat wriggled out of his grasp and nearly toppled off his leg before Jaime sat her upon the ground. 

“You’re not going to wander off, are you?” Cat had crawled into the halls of the White Sword Tower one afternoon, nearly giving Jaime palpitations. “You’re going to be good for Ser Jaime, aren’t you?” 

He half expected her to say _no. _Instead, Jaime watched as his daughter crawled towards the stone bench he sat upon, and reached up to grab the edge. He felt sorry for the fathers who cared little for children in their early moons and years. Witnessing all these milestones was an incredible feeling: her first smile, her first word, the first time she stood on her feet. But nothing had quite prepared him for seeing his daughter’s first steps. 

Cat took one hand off the bench and moved a step closer to her mother. “Mama.”

“Brienne!” Jaime called out, as softly as he could manage over the clang of steel. He didn’t want to startle Cat. “Your Grace, she’s going to walk!”

The Queen turned, clapped eyes on her daughter taking a tentative step towards her, and shoved the opposing knight into the dirt. She then dropped to her knees and opened her arms wide. “Come on Cat. Walk to Mother.” 

Jaime hovered behind his daughter as she wavered, stumbled, but righted herself. “That’s it, Cat. That’s it.” 

And she did. A handful of steps, and then Cat was giggling against her mother’s chest. Brienne held their daughter close, leaving a kiss against her golden hair. Two pairs of blue eyes stared at him, and Jaime felt himself well with pride. Their daughter had walked for the first time. And there were so many milestones to go: the first time she’d ride a horse, or swing a sword. 

And he wanted to do it all over again, too. 


	76. "Smooth Operator" - Ser Jaime tries to seduce Queen Brienne (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes,please write about Jaime falling down the stairs while trying to seduce Brienne" (anonymous)
> 
> How many Head, Hand, Heart remixes can I write...JUST ONE MORE!

“Your Grace, may I walk with you for a spell?”

Queen Brienne, first of her name, spun on her heel. Her forehead wrinkled rather unattractively as she realised who had called upon her; smoothing quickly in an attempt to appear polite to Tywin Lannister’s son. “If you must, Ser Jaime.” 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” 

He came alongside the Queen and offered his arm. It was customary, _gentlemanly, _despite the woman wearing breeches and a blade who had seen as much blood as his own, if not more. Jaw jutting forward, Queen Brienne took his arm with a barely concealed _huff. _She was rather unlike the young ladies who had been foisted upon him at Casterly Rock. Still, no matter her faults, she was to become his bride if Jaime’s father had any say in it. 

Well, he _didn’t. _Which was why he had sent Jaime to King’s Landing to seduce the young Queen. 

Unfortunately, the Lannister machinations were not going according to plan. “Your Grace, I wish to apologise for our first meeting. I know I didn’t paint myself in the greatest of lights—”

“—you _stared. _Practically _laughed.”_

Jaime tried to recall Tyrion’s scroll that had arrived earlier that day. He caught the Queen’s eye, as instructed. Not a bad place to look. “I did not wish to mock you, Your Grace. I was simply overwhelmed by your beauty.” 

This time it was the Queen who laughed. “Do you think me blind, Ser Jaime?” 

“No, Your Grace. If you were, your prowess in battle would be even more legendary than it is.” 

“_Ugh.” _The Queen wrenched her arm from him and gave him a sharp shove backwards. “Stop, Ser Jaime. _Please.” _

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to right this situation. “Your Grace, if I have caused offence—”

“—you’re _lying _to me, Ser Jaime.” Those blue eyes of hers were suddenly ice; Jaime felt a chill despite the summer air. “Ser Jaime, you are by far the most handsome man I have ever seen. I am ugly, monstrously so, with three failed betrothals to go along with my _many _victories. I do not know why you are so hellsbent on forcing our acquaintance, but I beg of you to stop. Or, at the very least, be _honest.”_

With a flick of her cloak, Queen Brienne stormed off. _Fuck. _He was completely, _overwhelmingly _out of his depth. In his nineteen years, he had never once seduced a woman. No handmaidens, no serving wenches, no daughters of his father’s bannermen. Just his sister, but in truth, she had seduced _him. _He didn’t think sneaking into the Queen’s room in the middle of the night and removing his clothes was the right path to take. 

But he had to try something. He couldn’t return to Casterly Rock without being the Prince Consort. He couldn’t hold his sweet sister until he wed Queen Brienne in the Great Sept of Baelor. 

_Fucking fuck. _“Your Grace!”

Jaime jogged after Queen Brienne, hoping to reach her and spew some more of the sentimental drivel he had been sent by raven. He caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair ducking through a small entryway hidden by bushes. He followed, realising _far _too late that the entryway led to a staircase. Jaime tripped, and toppled down multiple steps. He tried his best to protect his head; the stabbing pain in his chest telling him he had suffered at least a broken rib. In seconds, he reached the ground. 

He coughed against the dirt. “Fuck.”

“Call for a Maester!” 

Jaime heard the patter of running feet, and then two gentle hands were turning him onto his back. One brushed the hair from his face. He blinked; the image in front of him settling quickly. The Queen. Brow furrowed; blue eyes soft. _Oh, _and her hands were so gentle. He couldn’t recall if anyone had touched him so tenderly before. 

She held a number of fingers in front of his face. “How many fingers can you see, Ser Jaime?” 

“You’re bloody ugly,” he coughed, head spinning. “But good men would go to war for your eyes.” 

And that smile, too. It was probably the head injury, but he’d fight an army to see that smile again. 


	77. "Kingslayer" - Brienne finds Ser Jaime Lannister in the throne room, alt HHH Ch.1 (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Could you write some more Queen!Brienne pretty please😍" (sassbewitchedmyass)

King’s Landing had truly fallen. 

Brienne tried to keep her focus straight ahead; to the Red Keep looming like a spectre over the burning city. But the honour in her _cried _out to help these people. Offer her waterskin to the soot-covered children. Offer a shield to the women lamenting over burning homes, broken possessions. Offer her sword (after a fashion) to those who had no honour. Neither she, nor Ned, were willing to let some of these transgressions go unpunished. There was blood on her face, smoke in her hair, and a _desperation _to see justice done. 

When Robert arrived to take the throne, she would _plead _with him not to reward Tywin Lannister for this anarchy. Indeed, she whispered a prayer to the Father that their next monarch protected these people. Kept them safe. 

Finally, they made it to the Red Keep. Ned bowed his head. “There it is.”

Brienne shared a look with Ned: their journey had begun with Brandon riding into this city, and it would end with them doing the same. “Let us finish this.” 

They reached the doors to the throne room. Brienne led the charge; Ned behind her with his sword drawn. The first thing she saw was a body. Her gaze crept over the room until she caught sight of another, the corpse of Aerys Targaryen. She had never seen the King in person, but his white hair and golden crown were hard to attribute to another. And there, behind him, was the Iron Throne. Sitting atop it was the Warrior himself. 

White cloak, golden hair, bloodied sword. She’d prayed to him every day for a year for guidance, for strength, and he had finally answered her. He was as handsome as the stories depicted; as deadly as the tales of old. 

She felt Ned’s presence at her back. “Jaime Lannister.” 

_Oh. _Yes, Brienne could see it now. The closer they drew to the throne, the more human the Warrior’s features became. She had only clapped eyes upon the former heir to Casterly Rock once, at the tourney at Harrenhal. Some of the serving wenches had proclaimed him the most beautiful man in all of Westeros, even more beautiful than Prince Rhaegar. 

Perhaps he was. But that was a white cloak around his shoulders, and his King’s blood on his sword. 

Ned spoke first. "Your father and his army are within the city walls. The King is dead. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say, Lannister.“

“You were going to kill him anyway; I was just saving you the time.”

A muscle twitched in Ned’s cheek. “I’m sure. You and your father’s dedication to our cause has always been about timing.”

Lannister banners waving amidst soot and smoke. The city screaming, and burning, and Tywin Lannister overlooking it all. His _son, _sitting atop the throne as if the lions had won this war themselves. They were nothing but _cowards. _Only joining in the war when it suited them; only stopping the king when it suited them. Ser Jaime Lannister had kept his vows when the outcome was unknown; dismissed them at his father’s behest. 

Oathbreaker. _Kingslayer. _

That white cloak of his was stained red; the hem soaking in Aerys’ Targaryen’s blood. As were her boots. She took a step back. "Lady Brienne.“ She turned towards Ned. "I need to speak to the others; get the word out that Aerys is dead. I need you to stay here. Watch the body. Watch him.”

Exchanging a single nod, Ned left the throne room to seek out their forces. Brienne placed a hand upon the hilt of her sword and met Ser Jaime’s eye. To her surprise, he did not reach for his. She half expected him to draw his sword; to slay her where she stood and flee into his father’s protection. He did none of these things. 

_Curious. _


	78. "Kick" - Lord Commander Jaime feels his baby kick for the first time (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "LC!Jaime/Queen!Brienne him feeling one of the babies kick for the first time" (agirlnamedkeith)

There was a sole guard in front of the Queen’s chambers that night. Two of their number were on Tarth protecting the Queen’s father. Another was protecting Prince Renly and whoever Baratheon had welcomed into his bed. Two of his brothers slept soundly in the White Sword Tower. Ser Jason, the Queen’s guard, would soon join them. He was already smothering a yawn when Jaime approached, quickly snapping to attention as he caught sight of the Lord Commander.

He bowed his head. “Ser Jaime, forgive me.”

“You are forgiven, Ser Jason, but let me not see you do so again. If you are not fit to guard the Queen, then I must know.” He clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Go, get some rest. I’ll take the watch.”

“Are you sure, Ser Jaime?”_  
_

_Oh, he was sure. _“Go. The Queen is restless with her pregnancy; I’m sure I won’t be alone for very long.”

Ser Jason did not need to be asked twice. Jaime was quickly left alone outside Brienne’s door. He pressed his hand to the wood, leaning forward, trying to hear whether his beloved was awake. He hadn’t lied to Ser Jason: Brienne’s pregnancy was testing her patience; her stubbornness quickly waning if not her scowl. When he heard movement inside, he rapped twice upon the door.

“Your Grace? It’s Ser Jaime. I have relieved Ser Jason of his watch.”

“Come in, Ser Jaime.”

He opened the chamber door, shutting it with a firm hand. _Alone at last. _Jaime undid the buttons of his coat; shuck the leather sword belt from around his hips. Two quick tugs of his boots had them off, too. He padded across the bedchamber until he reached Brienne. She was propped up on a mass of pillows; a frown settling on her features. He leaned across the mattress and pressed a kiss to her mouth. She smiled, tugging on the laces of his shirt. 

“Off.”

“You’re very demanding tonight.” 

That scowl returned. Jaime cupped Brienne’s jaw, kissing her repeatedly in the hope it made a permanent disappearance. He did not quite succeed. “Your child has been pressing on my bladder all day.”

“_Oh, _so it’s _my _child?” 

Jaime said the words in jest, all too soon wishing he hadn’t. More and more people were commenting on how they hoped the babe had Renly’s colouring and good looks; the Baratheon strength and demeanour. They said it whilst Jaime stood in the background; a silent sentry and nothing more. He wanted to scream that the babe would have golden hair and bright blue eyes; that they’d be brave and kind and just. As much as a part of him longed to shout that this was _his _child growing inside Brienne, the larger part of him wanted to remind every lord, lady and lowborn that this babe was of _Tarth. _They would be born under crescent moons and suns, and long for stormy days and sea breezes. 

Gentle fingers carded through his hair; Brienne’s touch draining the annoyance from him. It was her turn to steal a kiss. "You’re right. It’s _our _child.” She took another. And another. “But our babe has still been pressing on my bladder.”

“Well, that is just not good enough.” Jaime settled properly on the bed beside Brienne and placed his right hand atop her swollen belly. “You must be kinder to your mother, little lion.” 

“I hope they listen to you.”

Jaime snorted. “Their mother doesn’t, why should our child?” Brienne batted his shoulder, and he chuckled. These stolen moments seemed to grow few and far between, but he wouldn’t trade them for the world. Stroking Brienne’s pregnant stomach, he bent down to press a kiss to where their child was growing. “Please, little lion. Listen to your—” He swallowed; it was only in these moments he could utter such things. “Listen to your father.” 

And that was when he felt it. A kick against his palm. “_Brienne_.”

He looked back at her; her blue eyes glistening. She pressed her hand atop his and held it close against her belly. He felt another flutter. “Little lion’s been moving for a while. Catelyn says only the mother can feel it at first. As our cub gets bigger, you can feel them.” She gripped his hand tighter. “Keep talking, Jaime. She likes the sound of your voice.” 

“Hello, little lion.” Another kick. “You’re a strong one, aren’t you? Going to grow up and wield a sword like your mother and father. You’re going to be as beautiful as your mother, I know it.” A firmer touch. Jaime’s stomach somersaulted. Their baby. _Their baby. _“I love you so much already. I cannot wait to meet you.” 

He looked across at Brienne. She was crying; the heel of her spare hand trying it’s best to wipe away the tears. She needn’t save face with him; Jaime felt like weeping himself. They’d made this. Their _love _had made a child. It was not perfect; few loves in this world were. But they loved each other, and they loved their babe, and it was more happiness than Jaime had ever expected. 

Reaching up, pressing his lips to Brienne’s temple, he knew she felt that, too. 


	79. "Heir" - Queen Brienne deals with a request from her father-in-law (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "because I love the Lord Commander!verse but it Hurts please give me Brienne and Jaime being happy with thier kid(s) in Head Hand Heart thank you" (remuslovestonks)

“Well, we have one last item on the agenda.” Lord Stannis paused. “Your Grace, are you quite well?”

Brienne winced, shifting in her seat. “I’m fine, Lord Stannis; there is just a small infant digging into my ribcage. Please continue.” Her Small Council exchanged a series of looks; no doubt all wondering if they should put a pin in their discussions until a more suitable time. Brienne still had two weeks before the Maester believed she would deliver: there was _no _good time. “I’m _fine. _Continue with the final item on the agenda.” 

Lord Stannis looked at the parchment in front of him rather than her fierce stare. “As you will, Your Grace. We have received a letter from Lord Tywin Lannister, of Casterly Rock.” 

As if anyone in this room needed an introduction. His son sat on Brienne’s right; he was her Hand, her husband, the father of her child – soon to be _children_. Jaime frowned at the letter in Stannis’ hand. “What does my father want?” 

A small voice piped up from Jaime’s lap. “Gold.” 

The Small Council descended into soft laughter at Princess Cat’s astute observation. Jaime stared at their daughter in his lap; a pair of bottomless blue eyes staring back. She giggled at the sight of her father’s easy smile, and Brienne’s heart tightened. It seemed strange, even now, to think of all she had been granted by the Gods. A crown atop her head. The most beautiful man in all of Westeros as her love. A child who was the perfect mesh of them both. Brienne reached over and stroked her daughter’s head; the golden hair she shared with her father. 

“You’re right, Cat. Grandfather does want gold.” 

“He wants all of it. That’s why the Rock sits on gold mines,” Jaime said, tickling their daughter’s sides until she squealed. 

Most of the Small Council were enamoured with Cat and their growing family. Olenna had spent some considerable gold on cloaks for Cat to wear (she liked to twirl in them). Cat often held Brynden’s hand whilst they were out walking in the gardens. Ser Gerold told the young princess all manner of stories about her mother on Tarth. And Jaime, _oh _the Hand to the Queen loved his daughter. 

It was only Stannis who did not care for the young Princess within the Small Council chamber. He scowled, now; chin jutting forward. Nearly three years since she had taken the throne and Jaime still reminded her of her poor choice. “May I continue, Your Grace?” 

“Of course, Lord Stannis.”

He cleared his throat. “With the advent of the new Prince or Princess—” Brienne absentmindedly stroked her pregnant belly. “—Lord Lannister wishes to petition the Crown that the new babe be known as the heir to Casterly Rock.” 

Beside her, Jaime groaned. Brienne reached over and squeezed his knee. “I thought Lord Lannister was made quite aware that our second child would be the Evenstar. This was made law long before Ser Jaime and I were wed.” 

“He was, Your Grace. But as House Lannister is considered one of the nine noble houses—”

Ser Brynden leant forward. “Lord Stannis, are you trying to imply that the Queen’s house is _not _a noble house?” 

Two white spots appeared on Stannis’ forehead. “_No, _Ser Brynden, I am merely repeating—”

This time it was Ser Gerold who interrupted. “The nine major houses included the Targaryens, which are no longer a house – at least not in Westeros. Surely, House Tarth is now considered one of the nine.”

“Ser Gerold—”

“Shall we put it to a vote?” Olenna asked, reaching over to play with the edges of Cat’s cloak; bopping her nose with the fabric. With no grandmother on either side of the family, Olenna had taken to the role with gusto. Cat was also the only thing – apart from Brienne herself, of course – that Jaime and Olenna had ever agreed u[on. “House Tarth, from this day forth, is considered one of the nine great families of Westeros. All those in favour?” 

Everyone in the room raised their hand, including Cat. Lord Stannis, who had also raised his hand, sagged to his chair, defeated. “I will write to Lord Tywin and inform him that the Queen’s second child will _not _be heir to Casterly Rock.”

“_Thank you, _Lord Stannis. He is more than happy to have our third born,” Brienne stated. Jaime turned to her; a single eyebrow raised. _As if you expected us to stop at two. _“Of course, Lord Tyrion Lannister and his wife Tysha are also expecting. But we all know why their child won’t inherit the Rock.” 

“No gold.” 

Jaime dropped a kiss to their daughter’s head. “Exactly,” he said. Anyway, thank you, Lord Stannis. This concludes our last Small Council meeting in King’s Landing. We’ll depart for Tarth in two days time. Good day to you all.” 

The Council departed to make their final arrangements. Lord Stannis was the first one out the door; Olenna lingered but, too, departed. Ser Brynden stared at their little family with a soft expression before giving them a moment alone. Soon enough the three would become four. Whilst she adored her family now, Brienne couldn’t wait for their little cub to be born. She’d known, felt it to her _bones, _that Cat would be a girl. The babe she carried now was a boy: with sandy hair and sea-blue eyes; a new legacy for the Sapphire Isle. 

Staring at the open entranceway, at Ser Brynden who had been the dearest friend to both her and Jaime, Brienne believed she knew what she would call him. 


	80. "Review" - Chef Jaime meets critic Brienne (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "OMG!!!!! Would you do that? Write a Chef! Jaime and Food Critic! Brienne as a paragraph?!!!! Here comes the squealing!!!!! Yes, please. Here, have all the chocolate your heart desires, along with my gratitude." (anonymous)

Jaime scanned the lifestyle section of the King’s Landing Times once more, huffing as he did so. “This review is _drivel. _Surely you’re not going to listen to it, are you?” 

His closest friend, Addam, shrugged. “You’ve been in Essos a long time, Jaime. Brienne Tarth can make or break a restaurant in this city, and I’ve already had _three _calls from your father.” 

“He won’t fire you.”

“I’m not worried about me. Jaime, he bought the restaurant for _you,” _hisfriend said, patting him on the shoulder. “This review will only make him push harder to get you on as head chef.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have no intention of being a head chef of _any _restaurant.” 

Addam shook his head goodnaturedly: they both knew how persuasive Tywin Lannister could be. But Jaime was adamant on this point: he had no intention of returning to the cut and thrust of a kitchen. He _enjoyed _travelling Essos; trying different foods, working with street vendors. He didn’t make his father buy a restaurant in King’s Landing, name it _Roar, _and drape the whole place in red and gold. Brienne Tarth had been as polite about the decor as she had the food. Utter _drivel. _He knew Addam’s cooking. This woman did not. 

Still, the review had been a blow to his old friend, and Jaime had offered to take him out for lunch to cheer him up. _The Stag’s Head _was done up as an old country pub, but served smaller portions at three times the price. The maître d’ took them to their table; a vinyl booth with beer mats and split leather. Jaime ordered them both craft beers from the Stormlands and perused the menu. He winced. 

“I bet Brienne Tarth ate this place alive.” 

Addam shook his head. “Renly Baratheon received a _glowing _review. And I can see why.” His friend gestured to another table at the restaurant. Baratheon, a somewhat familiar figure in chef whites, was talking to a statuesque blonde. “Seems you can buy a review these days with a free meal and a wink.” 

Jaime peered over the booth. “_That’s _Brienne Tarth?”

“One and the same.” 

“I’ll be right back.”

“No, Jaime, wait!”

Ignoring Addam’s pleas, Jaime crossed the restaurant towards the critic’s table. The closer he got, the more he understood why there was no picture in the paper like the other critics. Brienne Tarth was like a plate dressed by an amateur chef: portions were all wrong; splatters of sauce rather than a clean dish. Of course, some amateur plates tasted well despite their appearance. Brienne Tarth was not one of those plates. The way she was smiling up at Baratheon, Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if she exchanged sex for a good review. 

_Well, h_e did like blondes. “Brienne Tarth.” 

She turned from Baratheon; forehead knotting as she took him in. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

“I’m a friend of Chef Marbrand at _Roar. _Your review was barely good enough to wrap fish and chips in, let alone provide an industry judgement.” 

“I stand by my review. The plating was sloppy, the dishes were not well-thought-out. You can’t douse every plate with truffles and expect it to taste _good_. But then I would expect nothing less from a financier pretending to be a restauranteur.” 

Jaime gritted his teeth. “Careful. That’s my father you’re talking about.” 

Her eyes widened and immediately flickered to his right hand. He shifted it out of view. Tarth blinked; her surprisingly blue eyes returning to his face. “I’m sorry, Mister Lannister, but my review stands. Until you get a new menu – or a new head chef – I won’t be returning to _Roar _and neither will my readers.” 

Jaime stole a glance at Baratheon, and leant over Brienne’s table. He looked her up and down; the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “What if I took you out for dinner? Oysters, chocolate-covered strawberries…what menu gets a good review? Or do I have to eat at yours to earn five stars?” 

Brienne Tarth pushed herself up from the table. Jaime realised quickly he had miscalculated her size: she was taller than him; broader, too. She looked down on Jaime with utter contempt. “Email my office if you take over from Addam Marbrand. I would _gladly _let you know just how overrated you are.” 

She nodded at Baratheon before barging past him and out of the restaurant. Baratheon returned to his kitchen, shaking his head. Jaime tried to resist the urge to text his father and do _just _what Brienne Tarth wanted. _We’d see who’s overrated then. _


	81. "Moon Tea" - Queen Brienne is not yet pregnant; her father-in-law has concerns (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I possibly prompt you for a passage of your 'Q!Brienne marries S!Jaime who's still carrying on with his sister' idea? Like, maybe the moment he starts turning away from his sister and decides to start devoting himself to his wife?" (anonymous)

Jaime was married to the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, he was summoned to his father’s rooms like the young boy who had jumped off the cliffs at Casterly Rock. His father sat behind a desk, examining parchment; not even lifting his head at his son’s arrival. Jaime took the empty chair in front, not sure whether in doing so he would pass his father’s test or fail. 

After a moment, the parchment still in front of his father’s face, Tywin Lannister said: “The Queen’s moon’s blood has come again.” 

“Is that so?”

“It is. I was informed this morning.” Jaime did not care for his father having one of his wife’s handmaidens in his pocket, but he should not have expected anything less. Finally, the parchment was returned to the desk and his father stared at him. “It has nearly been a year since your wedding to the Queen and she is still not yet with child.” 

Jaime shrugged. “These things happen.” 

And by _things _he meant his sister using her own spy to dose his wife with moon tea so she would not bear his child. Jaime had only been informed two days before, when he had mentioned to his sister that he would need to spend an occasional night in his wife’s bed rather than hers. She had laughed, said _it doesn’t matter how many nights you spend in that cow’s bed, she’ll never bear your child, _and took his cock in hand. 

Despite the pleasure they’d found in each other, an uneasiness had remained long after he had left her rooms and returned to his own. 

“How often do you fuck the Queen?” 

Jaime blinked, startled by his father’s crude enquiry. “I don’t think that is any of your—”

“—of course it’s my _fucking _business. Eleven months and Queen Brienne has not fallen pregnant with your child. Three explanations lie before me: either you are not bedding your wife frequently enough, she is barren, or you are impotent.” His father sighed. “If it’s the latter, I will be hard-pressed to find you another match.” 

_“_Another match?” Jaime frowned. “I’m already wed, Father.”

“For now.” Tywin drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Do you think your wife’s supporters will stand idly by whilst she does not produce an heir? They will blame you, first and foremost, before her. And if she is barren…” His lips twitched. “Well, a Queen without an heir is a Queen without power.” 

Jaime did not care for the look his father wore. Inscrutable; calculating. It was the same look he had worn during Baratheon’s rebellion where Jaime and the rest of their forces had remained at Casterly Rock. It was only at the end that they had intervened. His father had calculated his next moves far too quickly for Jaime to comprehend. A Stormlands girl was crowned Queen; Jaime thrust upon her as her husband. He certainly could have married worse. Brienne was kind, and stubborn, and she was a _good _Queen. 

It was not her fault that Jaime Lannister was the worst husband in Westeros. 

“What will you have me do?” 

“Fuck your wife,” Tywin said, returning to the scraps of parchment littering his desk. “If she remains without child, we shall retreat to Casterly Rock and plan our next move from there.” 

Jaime was dismissed without a word. He took the long way to the Queen’s chambers; courtiers and guards nodding as they passed the Prince Consort. As he approached Brienne’s rooms, he saw the Queensguard out front and the handmaidens milling around. Which one was under his father’s employ, he wondered. And which one his sister? Truly, it did not matter. As long as they remained in King’s Landing, Brienne’s strings would continue to be pulled by forces she could not see. 

He entered his wife’s chambers. She was sat, knees to her chest, at the headboard of her bed. Face pale; eyes red. None of this was Brienne’s fault, and yet she clearly took it that way. _He _was the cause of this pain. He’d never considered himself a hateful creature until the moment she caught sight of him and smiled as if he were her salvation rather than her doom. 

“Ser Jaime.” 

“Your Grace.”

He came around her side of the bed and took her hand within his. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Let’s get out of King’s Landing for a while. You, me, Ser Brynden. No handmaidens; no courtiers. Will you show me Tarth, Your Grace?” 

Brienne nodded, and he kissed her hand once again. 


	82. "Second Course" - Chef Jaime runs into critic Brienne once again (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That photograph you reblogged from dunder makes me ask if I could ask for a follow up prompt of your chef and food critic AU. I'm willing to fetch you enough hot cocoa for the rest of year." (anonymous)

Jaime did not take Addam’s job at _Roar _to prove Brienne Tarth wrong. He thought about it. Even crafted a text message to his father saying he would. But then his hand started to itch and throb. Memories of the last time he had worked in a professional kitchen – just after he had finished his physical therapy – came flooding back. The tremor in his hand. The sweat upon his brow. The hoarseness of his voice. No, _no, _he wasn’t ready to go back yet. He wasn’t ready to fail in his father’s kitchen. 

So Jaime went to the next best thing. 

_Payne _was a bistro in the heart of King’s Landing run by an old acquaintance, Ilyn Payne. They had worked together in a couple of kitchens over the years; Jaime often testing his food for him as Ilyn had no taste buds. The chef focussed more on texture and smell, and his bistro was a gem in the King’s Landing culinary scene. After a busy lunch service, Jaime slipped in and started working on one of _Roar’s _signature dishes. 

It did _not _go well. 

Tired, hand shaking, Jaime retreated from the kitchen as they began the final prep for the dinner service. Unfortunately, Jaime ran into the last person he wished to see; a familiar blonde head holed up at the bar. “Brienne Tarth.”

“Mister Lannister.”

Jaime signalled the bartender, Ilyn’s cousin Podrick, to make him a drink. “Are you here for your next review? Should Payne be trembling in his chef whites?”

“On the contrary: I happen to love the food here. What are _you _doing at _Payne?”_

_“_Catching up with an old friend.”

Podrick slid a tall glass of water with a twist of lemon across the bar towards him. Unlike others in his profession, alcohol went into his dishes, not him. Jaime took a long drink and set the glass back upon the bar. Refreshed, Jaime finally processed Tarth’s words. Baratheon had earned five stars. Payne’s food was good enough to revisit. But Addam was slated? 

“I don’t understand your critique system.” He took another drink. “Are you sleeping with Ilyn, too?” 

Brienne didn’t storm out this time. Instead, she turned to Podrick. “Could we get a plate of the crab cakes, please, Pod?” 

The young man disappeared to the kitchen. No words passed between them until Podrick returned with a single plate and two forks. Three golden crab cakes sat on pristine white china; a single lemon wedge on the side. Brienne offered Jaime a fork. He took a bite, and did his best to restrain his groan. The crumb coating was crisp; a perfect counterpoint to the sweet, soft crab meat. Jaime eagerly took another bite. And another. He started on the second at the same time Brienne did; their forks clashing. They let out a huff of laughter. 

“Ilyn’s food is simple; classic. He focusses on how it feels in your mouth rather than the price tag of the dish.” Brienne split the last crab cake into two and pulled one half to her side of the plate. “Tarth crab,” she said, tapping the crab cake. “The best in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“So you say.”

Brienne scowled at him. “It’s _true.”_ She took a sip of water, ruminating on something, before she addressed him once again. “I may have been kinder to Renly than other restaurants I’ve reviewed. But I stand by my critique of your friend.”

“Well, I disagree.”

“_Well, _why don’t you join me at _Roar _tomorrow night and you can see for yourself.”

Jaime faltered. Eating at his father’s restaurant was certainly a better idea than cooking in it. Still, he would not let himself show any weakness in front of this woman. “Are you asking me to dinner, Brienne?”

She flushed the colour of a cherry tomato. “No! Well, _yes, _but not like that. It’s purely business.”

“Purely business. Alright. And if I prove you wrong, you’ll print a retraction?” 

Brienne smirked. “Mister Lannister, if you prove me wrong, I’ll print anything you want.”

One of the waitstaff then came to lead Brienne to her table, but not before she had slipped Jaime her business card. He would make all the arrangements and take _great _pleasure in proving her wrong. Because she was right about one thing: this was _not _a date. 


	83. "Ring" - Brienne thinks Jaime is married. He is not. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oooo the 'jaime wearing a wedding ring to avoid being hit on' is something i would like to read please" (anonymous)

“What is that?”

“This?” Jaime raised his right hand; the gold wedding band on his finger catching the light. “It’s a wedding ring, Tyrion. Keep meeting girls at bars and paying for whores and you’ll never see one.” 

His little brother rolled his eyes. “No, Brother, I meant why are you _wearing _it. I thought you were going to the cinema with Brienne.” 

“I…I am.” Jaime cleared his throat. “She, _uh, _she still thinks I’m married.”

It wasn’t his fault. Not really. If _anything, _Tyrion was to blame. His brother was the one who insisted he get out and date, even though the idea made Jaime’s stomach churn. Every night in an endless string of bars with a number of tipsy women who _touched _him. But then Jaime had read an article online about a woman wearing a wedding band whilst out so she could drink in peace. He’d picked one up at a jewellers, and was now Jaime Lannister, Husband. 

His plan had worked fine until Brienne Tarth had talked to him. 

By the time Jaime realised he would like to see Brienne again, he was in too deep. He had an anniversary, a meet-cute; Seven Hells, his wife had a _name. _There was no way he could extricate himself now without looking like a total jerk and making Brienne never want to see him again. So they were just friends. Married people had friends. 

“But you’re not_ married_!” His brother reminded him. 

“I am tonight.”

Leaving his brother shaking his head, Jaime headed out to join Brienne and her friends at the cinema. They were seeing some cheap-looking action flick with bad CGI, but Jaime would have happily sat through a school production of a Valyrian opera if it meant spending time with Brienne. 

She waved to him as he entered the cinema. “Jaime!”

“Hey.” Did married people kiss their friends on the cheek? Jaime really wanted to do that. Instead, he settled for an awkward shoulder hug. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem.” Brienne suddenly frowned. “No Jeyne?” 

“Got caught late at the office. Next time, though. Hope it’s alright with just me?” 

Brienne nodded. “Of course it is. Come on, the others are waiting in line.” 

And by _others, _Brienne meant her friends Margaery and Sansa (who had persuaded her to talk to a guy in the bar on the night she and Jaime had met), Margaery’s brother Loras, and Loras’ boyfriend Renly. Brienne seemed to draw into herself as they joined the queue; her gaze fixed upon Renly playing with Loras’ hair. When Brienne brushed her own, short strands, Jaime wondered if he wasn’t the only one with a crush. 

“Brienne,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. “How was work? How are things at the museum?” 

The topic seemed to spark something in her, and she talked all the way until they reached the front of the concession line. Jaime brought the drinks and snacks, not caring if that was a _date _thing and not a _friend _thing. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her. _Sure, _he opened the door for Brienne but that was an act of _chivalry. _Like letting her have the aisle seat. And the second cupholder for her chocolate. 

As the movie got started, Jaime glanced towards his right. Loras and Renly were already kissing, ignoring the explosions and cookie-cutter action hero on the big screen. Margaery and Sansa, who Jaime didn’t realise were a couple, were holding hands on their joint armrest. Jaime then looked back at Brienne. She had paled. 

“I will admit, I’m sort of glad Jeyne didn’t come,” Brienne whispered. “I didn’t fancy being the Stranger in a row of Gods.” 

_You’re not the Stranger. You’re the Maiden. _But Jaime didn’t say that. Instead, he offered his popcorn to Brienne. “I’m glad it’s just us, too. I like hanging out with you.” 

Jaime didn’t give a damn whether that wasn’t married-person speak or not. He was one shy smile, flushed cheek, or lip bite away from starting an affair. 


	84. "It's Only Money" - Tywin continues to set up his son and Doctor Tarth, sequel to '33'. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tywin master of the ship anon here, I'm going to be that person, and request a prompt so it can be considered a verse. Of course, not only I'm ready to offer a jumbo sized bag of M&Ms I'm also aware that the muse might take her time with this one, and I'm totally okay with it." (anonymous)

Tywin Lannister did not care for fundraisers. The champagne was always flat; the canapes always lacking necessary garnish. He was constantly accosted by those wanting to ally themselves to the Lannister name or, worse, their considerable funds. Normally, Tywin would send Jaime in his stead. But tonight, the King’s Landing Museum of Ancient History was having their annual fundraiser and Tywin wanted to be on hand to make sure his plans continued to go accordingly. 

“Champagne, Sir?” 

A waiter, dark hair tinged with grease, presented Tywin with a tray of flutes. He waved his hand. “Scotch. Well aged. No ice.” 

“Um, uh, the _bar _is over—”

Tywin fixed the young man with a stare that immediately increased his stammer. Thankfully, for _him, _the museum’s new chief curator came to his rescue. Doctor Tarth laid a hand upon the boy’s shoulder, easy as she had a considerable number of inches on him, and pointed the lad elsewhere. “It’s fine; ask Gendry at the bar to pour two fingers of the finest scotch he has.” 

The waiter nodded and scurried away. Brienne Tarth appraised Tywin; her hands clasped and coming to rest in front of her stomach. “Mister Lannister, such a pleasure you could join us tonight.”

“Of course. Lannisters have been donors to the museum since it first opened. You are looking…” He trailed off; Brienne Tarth immediately flushing at his attempts to comment on her appearance. “…in accordance with the theme of the evening.” 

Brienne surreptitiously tugged at the hem of her dress. It was a deep blue, with a high waist and hem. As such, Doctor Tarth’s muscular legs were on full view for the museum’s patrons. The dress came together around her neck, leaving her broad shoulders open to the eye as well. A risque choice for a museum fundraiser, and certainly something she wouldn’t have chosen herself. But the drab grey gown she had dropped off to be cleaned would have done _nothing _to entice his son. 

So Lannister Holdings had purchased a dry cleaners, and here they were. 

“There was a mix-up,” Doctor Tarth began, taking one of the flutes from the young boy’s tray when he returned with the scotch. Tywin took a sip as Doctor Tarth gulped. “Anyway, we welcome your donation.”

“Actually, it will be my son who will be donating.” Tywin spotted him across the room. “Ah, there he is now.” 

Jaime had hoped to get out of the museum fundraiser by claiming there was a hefty amount of paperwork needed to close on a forthcoming deal. Tywin simply backed out. A few million dragons were nothing compared to seeing his son and heir wed and with children of his own. So here Jaime was, dressed in a tuxedo with a sapphire handkerchief that made it seem as if he and Doctor Tarth had paired their outfits. Tywin tried to keep a neutral facade as he took another sip of scotch. 

“Father,” Jaime said as he approached, taking the last flute of champagne. “Doctor–_uh…_” 

Jaime trailed off, rendered speechless by Doctor Tarth’s legs. His son was not restrained in his ogling: his pupils expanded; he loosened the collar of his shirt. Unfortunately, Doctor Tarth seemed to take this as some kind of mocking. _Perhaps this will be harder than I thought. _

“Nice dress,” his son eventually said. “You couldn’t find anything with a shorter skirt? This is a _family _event.” 

Tywin sighed. Doctor Tarth snapped back. “This is a _fundraiser _for our schools program. It’s a good cause; not that I expect you would know much about that_. _How much pocket money did your father have to give you to smile and drink champagne all evening?” 

“More than you earn in a _year._ To just smile, and drink champagne.” Which he did at that moment. 

Doctor Tarth turned on her heel and stormed off in the other direction. His son watched her leave; fingers clutching the glass tightly as he stared at Brienne’s arse. 

“I loathe that woman.” 

Yet Jaime followed her, no doubt to engage her once again in a battle of wills. Tywin chuckled. _The game continues. _


	85. "Outside Line" - Brienne calls phone sex operator Jaime from a hotel room, sequel to '49'. (Modern AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you could write more of phone sex operator Jaime, I would be every so grateful! I love the filthy things coming out of that man's mouth!" (anonymous)

It was a Monday night, and work was slow. After a busy weekend where the lonely and horny called and called, Jaime hadn’t fucked someone with his words all night. Not wanting to get involved in a boxset lest a late call came in, he’d found a ripe orange and was tossing it up in the air. Up, _down. _Up, _down. _His phone bleeped. Text from Tyrion. Up, _down. _Up, _down. _His phone vibrated. 

_Well, hello. _“This is Jaime. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

There was a giggle on the other end of the line. His stomach fell as he considered whether this was a prank call, and then: “You always say that every time I call.” 

“_Brienne.” _His first-timer who now called once every two weeks. Usually on a Friday night. He grabbed the handset and settled in against the pillows. “You don’t usually call on a Monday.”

Another uncharacteristic giggle. “I’m at a conference. For…work.” 

_Ah. _When there was a kitchenware convention in Storm’s End three weeks ago, Jaime had been swamped. “Are you in a hotel room, Brienne? Are you lonely?” 

He pictured her biting her bottom lip. “_Yes. _I had a few glasses of wine at the bar and I just…I didn’t want to take anyone upstairs. I just wanted to hear you. I want you to talk me off, Jaime” 

So far he enjoyed tipsy Brienne. She was a lot more forthright and gave him less shit. Not that he minded the banter. Made him half hard most of the time. He brushed the front of his boxer shorts; the material starting to tent. “What are you wearing, Brienne?” 

“_Nothing_.” 

He faltered. He’d had Brienne call him in pyjamas; in knickers and a t-shirt. She’d called him when she’d finished a long day at work and she’d called him after a long soak in the tub. But she never started the call naked. Jaime groaned and felt his cock stiffen even further. He pictured her long limbs spread out on the hotel sheets. _Fuck. _

_“Brienne_…” he said, his voice hoarser than it should be considering he was a _professional, _dammit. “What type of bed are you on? King, double?”

“Single. We–we didn’t have a lot of funding. Are you going to fuck me now, Jaime?” 

“Yes.” His mind started creating a scenario for them to play. He tossed his t-shirt over his head whilst he finished working out the last details. “Brienne, does your bed have a hard frame around the mattress?” It did. “Good. Now, Sweetling, I need you to put your feet on that frame. Spread those legs wide for me, okay? Don’t touch yourself yet. Can you do that for me, Blue Eyes?” 

A few shaky breaths echoed down the line. “Good. Good girl. I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice. We met downstairs, you and I. You were alone at the bar; I saw you and wanted you. We talked; we flirted. It’s not important. What’s important is that you gave me your room key, Brienne.”

“That’s rather forward of me.”

“Not as much as me coming into your room to find you spread out like a buffet. Your legs wide open; your cunt _dripping. _I can smell you as soon as I come in the door, Brienne. I start taking off my clothes.” 

She moaned. “Touch me.” 

“So _demanding.” _Jaime took out his cock and stroked his length. He let out a deep sigh. “I want you to play with your breasts, Brienne. Roll your nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. Pull them; twist them until they’re _aching_. Are you doing that for me, Blue Eyes?” 

“I am.” On the other end of the line, Brienne let out a series of stuttered moans. “_Jaime_, I want you to touch yourself for me.” 

The hand on his cock stilled. “Brienne—”

“I’m touching myself for you; you should—” She groaned. “Cradle your balls. Run your thumb along the underside of your cock. Just—”

“—get myself off to the show in front of me.” It was all part of the scenario. Brienne’s mysterious one night stand building the tension as he grasped his cock and fucked himself to the sight of the goddess touching her breasts. “I want you to wet your finger, Brienne. Suck it between those pink lips of yours. Now circle your nipple.”

“Stroke yourself.”

“Oh, _baby, _I am.” He pumped his shaft; hand fisting the bedsheets. It was just part of the scenario, but _fuck _it felt good to be told what to do. “Do you want me to come on you, Brienne? Is that what you want? Or do you want me to fuck you? That cunt of yours is so wet, Brienne. So wet and you haven’t even touched yourself there yet. Do you think I could get you off with just my voice and your hands on your breasts? Do you think I could make you come without touching that pink, _wet _cunt of yours?”

“_Jaime.”_

“Another time, maybe.” He picked up the pace on his own cock; calloused hand sliding up the length. He was close. So _fucking _close. “Keep those legs spread for me, Brienne. Fuck yourself with two of your fingers—don’t worry about starting with one; you’re wet enough to take them. Imagine it’s my cock, Brienne. Fucking you deep; fucking you _hard.”_

_“Oh. Oh!”  
_

“Come for me, Brienne. Scream that entire hotel down; let them know how good I’m fucking you.” 

Oh, his Brienne was a screamer alright. The noises she made as she came – and Jaime picturing a long-limbed goddess writhing atop cool sheets – brought on his own orgasm. He spilled into his hand; his own cries coming through the line. He said her name in broken syllables as the waves of pleasure rushed through him. 

Spent, he sagged back against his mattress. The other end of the line was silent, and then: “I really like the way you make me feel, Jaime.” 

“I like making you feel good, too.”

Neither was talking about the orgasms. 


	86. "Morning Show" - Brienne 'accidentally' hits her co-anchor in the face. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime is the replacement for Renly as Brienne’s co-anchor in a morning show. A self-defense expert is the guest. Brienne accidentally blacks Jaime’s eye. “accidentally”" (agirlnamedkeith)

_“_And we’ll be right back with Syrio after these messages.”

A production assistant signalled they were off-air, and Brienne sagged against the blue sofa. Beside her, her _temporary _co-anchor smirked. “You should smile more, Tarth. Wouldn’t want to put people off their breakfast with that frown of yours.”

And with that, Jaime Lannister stood up to grab a bottle of water and refresh his make-up. 

Things didn’t use to be like this. Brienne used to _like _going to work each morning; _liked _sharing the sofa of _Good Morning, Storm’s End _with her co-anchor (and secret crush) Renly Baratheon. But then Renly’s brother Stannis had accidentally hit him with a car, and Renly was off for three months. The producers had brought in Jaime Lannister, the evening news anchor of a major station in King’s Landing, to cover for him. Brienne had thought, for a _moment, _that he might be respectful; professional. 

She had been wrong. 

Right now he swanned back on the soundstage like he _owned _it. Which, according to rumours she’d heard in the break room, he technically did. _Apparently, _Jaime’s father had bought their network. When she’d heard that, Brienne had given up ever working with Renly again. Maybe she could get fired; start fresh up North. Catelyn had always said there was a job for her at _Wake Up in Winterfell. _

“Silver stag for them?” Jaime asked, breaking Brienne out of her reverie. “I’d offer a gold dragon but I’m not sure they’re worth that much.”

“_Piss off.”_

“Now now, let’s not get too aggressive before Mister Forel arrives. You know, Tarth, you should really pay attention. It’s a dangerous world out there. I _mean, _you’re tall as fuck and you look like a man from behind, but some men like a _challenge.” _

She raised her middle finger just as the production assistant queued them back in after the commercial break. The teleprompter called for Brienne to re-introduce the segment, but Jaime jumped in. 

“If you’re just joining us here at _Good Morning, Storm’s End, _we’re about to be joined by master self-defence expert Syrio Forel, who is bringing out a new web series dedicated to teaching moves you can learn at home. Do you know any self-defence, Brienne?” 

_I’m a master of several arts, can box, _and _swing a broadsword. _“I know where to put my thumb when I make a fist, Jaime.” _Up your arse, you pompous prat. _“But I’m hoping Syrio will teach me a few moves.”

They welcomed Syrio Forel onto the soundstage where a mat had been set up for a demonstration. Jaime removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Whilst Lannister was primping, Brienne took over asking Forel a few questions about his new series, his history in the field, and his famed gym back in Braavos. When Jaime was ready, Syrio got them in position. 

“Now, Jaime, you stand behind Brienne and try to grab her. Brienne, I want you to aim your elbow just off to Jaime’s side. If he was really aiming to attack you, you’d go for his solar plexus. But we don’t want you hurting your co-anchor.” 

“Not at all,” Jaime said; a glint in his green eyes. “You don’t want to hurt me, do you, Tarth?” 

She pinned a sickly sweet smile to her features as Jaime’s arm slotted across her sternum. His arm was firm; his skin warm against her navy button-down. Brienne blinked and aimed her elbow backwards. She didn’t _quite _get the air she was hoping for, and instead hit Jaime in the side. A couple of the cameramen chortled. 

“My co-anchor’s elbows are armed and dangerous,” Jaime laughed off, but his smile was gone. “Let’s try it again.”

They gave it a couple more goes; once, Brienne was even the assailant. Jaime, thankfully, restrained himself from seeking revenge with his own elbows. Then Forel moved on to showing them how to throw a punch. He demonstrated the correct form before Jaime threw a few mock jabs stopping short of her thrice broken nose. 

Forel was addressing the cameras, discussing what more could be learned from his web series, when Jaime turned to her. His microphone was covered by his hand. “You’re not very good at this, are you? I can see why Baratheon seemed happy to be a knocked down by a car. Got a break from working with you.”

When it was played back for Brienne later – when Catelyn’s daughter Arya sent her the video posted online with millions of hits – she would be unable to pinpoint _exactly _when she decided to punch Jaime Lannister in the face. It was just an instinct. She would _not _be talked to like that. She would _not _be treated like that. Jaime Lannister didn’t seem to register words. Words are _wind, _after all. So she thrust back her arm and struck him with her fist. 

“Seven Hells!” exclaimed one of the cameramen; Forel turning back to see what had happened and trying hard to restrain his grin. 

The first aider was called for. A commercial break was aired. Brienne stood over Jaime with her fist curled, adrenalin rushing through her, not sure what to do now. Below her, Jaime pressed his fingers against his reddening eye socket. She expected him to call for the gold cloaks. She expected him to call his father and have her _fired. _Instead, he looked up at her as if she were one of the Seven. 

“Nice punch. _Brienne.”_


	87. "Promises" - Young Jaime and his friend Brienne go on an adventure. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "#someone prompt me canon jb kids because this is so ADORABLE okay here I am to prompt you canon jb kids" (remuslovestonks)

“There he is.” Brienne dropped her chin into her hands as she stared out into the courtyard. “He’s like something from a story.” 

“Let me see.” Jaime nudged Brienne’s shoulder; pushing her along to make space in their hiding spot. From this vantage point, they could see across the whole courtyard. But even all the way up here, he couldn’t see someone that would make his best friend go all doe-eyed. “What am I looking at?” 

“There.” Brienne pointed to a boy around their age. Oval face. Mop of brown hair. _No sword. _“His name is Renly Baratheon and when I’m bigger, we’re going to be _married.”_

Jaime frowned. “To him?” 

_“_Yes. He’s so handsome. Like a knight from a story.” 

Jaime wrinkled his nose and stared back at his best friend’s intended. They’d have to visit the Maester later: clearly, Brienne’s eyesight was failing as there was no _way _that that boy was handsome. _Jaime _was handsome. All the girls said so. His sister said so, although Jaime always felt weird when she did. But he had a lion’s mane of golden curls, and green eyes like cut emeralds. This boy, this _Renly, _didn’t have any of that. Just mud-coloured hair and a pinched face. 

Brienne deserved better than that. 

Before he could say such things, a thin, biting voice echoed through the corridors. Brienne’s eyes widened like saucers. “Seven Hells, Jaime, it’s Roelle.”

“Come on!”

Without thinking, Jaime grabbed her hand. They ducked along the balustrade, threw their legs over the top, and climbed down the rose trellis. When their feet hit the ground, they _ran. _Brienne’s Septa was a monster. When she and Lord Tarth had arrived in King’s Landing, Jaime had found his friend more than once in tears due to her harsh words and biting fingernails. He’d made it his quest then – and Brienne the first damsel he would ever rescue – to always keep Brienne in his presence. 

Roelle wouldn’t _dare _lay a finger on the son of the King’s Hand.

They continued running through the corridors; ducking past courtiers and avoiding servants. Jaime maintained his tight grip on his friend’s hand. He still remembered the first time they’d met: Lord Tarth had some business in the Westerlands, and he’d brought his shy daughter along, too. She’d been as tall as Jaime despite him having two years on her. She’d been nearly as good with a sword, too. When he’d joined his father in King’s Landing, he’d suggested inviting the Tarth’s to court. 

Now he could play with his best friend every day. 

“In here!” Jaime said, ducking into a nearby doorway and closing the heavy oak behind them. Now, which tower was this? Months in the capital and he still struggled with his bearings in the Red Keep. Wherever they were, they had to keep moving. 

“Where are we?” Brienne asked as they climbed a narrow staircase. “Are we lost?

Jaime puffed out his chest and put on his best impression of his father. “Lannisters do _not _get lost.” 

Brienne giggled. “Maybe Tarths do.”

He didn’t say _maybe you’ll be a Lannister one day. _It would be cruel to suggest things he could not promise; even crueller to promise things he could not keep. Brienne was intended for the youngest Baratheon son; Jaime one of the Tully daughters. All he could hope for was, when they were bigger and taller and all grown up, that they could still go on adventures together. 

Like this one. They reached the top of the tower, and Jaime suddenly realised where they were. “Brienne. The Kingsguard.” 

Lord Selwyn had read them stories of the Kingsguard. He’d told them tales of their vows, their prowess in battle. The gold armour they wore, and their white cloaks. Jaime had stolen a pillowcase one day and pretended to be _Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard _whilst Brienne posed as an assassin attempting to slay the king. But seeing a white cloak in the flesh – fingering the soft material and gasping – Jaime realised his pillowcase was a poor imitation. 

“Jaime.” Brienne tugged on his hand, still holding hers. “The book.”

The White Book. The home of all the great knights and all their great deeds. It was open to a page on Arthur Dayne. Jaime still struggled with his letters, but Brienne read the words out for him. 

He grinned. “I cannot wait to become a knight.” 

Beside him, Brienne frowned. “I’ll never be a knight.” 

Jaime squeezed her hand as tight as he could. “Yes, you will. Any knight can make another knight. So if no one else does it, I’ll do it. I’ll knight you.” 

“Promise?”

Knighting Brienne of Tarth: now _that _was a promise he could keep. 


	88. "Overdue" - Librarian Jaime clashes with student Brienne Tarth (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "librarian jaime and student brienne pls!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, Anon! This is my first fic of 2020; I’m so excited!! Sidenote, when working out library fees I realised there’s a lot more to Westerosi currency than I thought. Enjoy!

The Casterly Library looked as old as the surrounding buildings in Winterfell University. Stone brickwork; high windows; an ornate arch with direwolves carved into the stone above the entrance. A far cry from the modern library with entire walls of glass that his father had tried to pay for as a way to integrate himself into his eldest son’s university life. Thankfully, the students had protested such a modern building on campus. But a little protest didn’t stop Tywin Lannister. His funds for improvements had earned a new name for the library and a plaque by the door. 

Of course, his money had had the opposite effect. The library was so nice that Jaime had never wanted to leave. 

Entering the building, Jaime swiped his ID card at the barriers and swept through. He nodded at Pia, one of the assistant librarians manning the front desk, before he headed up to the staff room. The library was still; barely a handful of students inside, and most of them would be heading home soon for a well-deserved rest. The majority of Winterfell University’s student population had yet to return from the Sevenmas break. Jaime always enjoyed their return, though. It’s when he got to collect late fees. 

Coat and bag stowed, Jaime pulled on the burgundy cardigan Tyrion had bought him for the fourth day of Sevenmas and headed down to the front desk with a takeaway hot chocolate in hand. “Quiet evening?” he asked Pia.

“Found one of Bolton’s third years crying in the loos but, yeah, all quiet.” Pia tucked her phone into her pocket and headed out from behind the desk. “You know, I could keep you company for a while if you’d like. As it’s so quiet.” 

“No need,” Jaime said, already vacating Pia’s empty seat and reaching for the paperback he’d stashed there yesterday. His bookmark was halfway through. “I’ve got the Blue Knight to keep me company.” 

He missed Pia’s crestfallen expression as he flicked ahead to page 202. Jaime took a sip of hot chocolate and began to read. As a child, he’d loathed the activity; the letters seemed to reverse themselves, and he’d often _think _a word was correct before his sister would snigger and tell him he was mistaken. His father had forced him to read, keeping him in the study back at the original Casterly Rock until Jaime started memorising large chunks just to get Tywin off his back. It was only when he stayed with his Aunt in the Riverlands that he was finally taken to a specialist for reading strategies. The first book he ever read without struggling was with Goldenhand the Just, who liked to smack his enemies in the face with his solid gold hand. 

_Make your greatest weakness your greatest strength. _And that’s what Jaime had done. 

Of course, people still questioned his abilities. His father, his sister. Students and lecturers who saw the Lannister name and wondered if Tywin’s money had paid for his position (it hadn’t), or who saw his good looks and thought he wasn’t intelligent enough to be the senior librarian (he was). One of those people was coming through the door right now. B Tarth, one of Cat’s first years. Tall, broad, with striking blue eyes and a scowl that would send most scurrying, especially this time of the morning. It had been an innocent mistake, holding her study room reservation under a ‘Brien Tarth’. But saying he’d never cracked open a book unless it was to scan it out…well, that required a little payback.

Tarth barely acknowledged him as she scanned her ID card at the barriers. It made an unsatisfying _beep _and denied her entry. She tried it again. Same sound. Jaime smirked, put his book out of sight, and leaned back in his chair. He waited for Tarth to come to him. And so she did. 

“There’s something wrong with my ID card.” 

“Is there?” he asked, feigning poor ignorance. 

There was that scowl again. “It won’t let me enter.” 

“I wonder why that could be. Let me pull up your account.” Jaime took his time logging into the library system and searching for Tarth’s name, as if he didn’t already know what he would find. And there it was, three books in right red with OVERDUE right beside them. He leaned back and grinned. “Unfortunately, Ms Tarth, you have some overdue books. I’m afraid you owe Casterly Library some money.”

“I–I–I don’t _have _any overdue books!” Tarth opened up her satchel and produced a case history of the Long Night, one of Cat’s first-year modules. “This is the only book I have out at the moment, and it doesn’t need to be returned for another week!” 

At this point, more students had begun to trickle through the entranceway. Jaime had hoped Tarth would return with all the others; he’d wanted a bigger audience for this. _Ah well. "_Actually, Ms Tarth, you have _three _books overdue._ Beyond the Wall: A Guide to the Vagina.” _She gasped, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks._ “The Bear or Maiden Fair: A Series of Essays on Wilding Sexual Practices; _well, whatever you’re into, I suppose.” Her fists clenched. “_From Castamere to Casterly: A Lannister Geneaology. _Looking up your favourite librarian, were you?” 

Tarth twisted, noticing a handful of her fellow students watching them. She then turned back to him; jaw clenched. “I never took those books out.”

He shrugged. “No judgements, Ms Tarth. I mean, I’m partial to a little historical fiction myself.” He brought his paperback into view. “Not many people know that. Probably think I’ve never opened a book unless I have to scan it out.” 

And the half-penny dropped_. _“You’re an _arse.”_

“And you owe me three silver stags.”

Not a huge amount of money, at least not for a Lannister, but enough of an inconvenience for a poor student. Tarth dug around in her satchel and produced two stags and seven copper stars. “There. Can I do my work now?” 

“Of course.” Jaime unlocked her account and waved her through. “Happy New Year, Ms Tarth.”

And what a year it was going to be.


	89. "Boyband" - Lionheart arrive on Tarth for the second part of their Westeros tour (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Boyband Jaime prompt! Jaime is a trained musician turned jaded popstar whose group stops by Tarth on their Westeros Tour. Their PR team arranges a meeting with politician Selwyn and his daughter." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, YES! Thank you for prompting this, Anon; I hope you enjoy!

There was no major airport on Tarth, just a small strip for private jets and cargo planes. But, no matter the size, there would always be a dedicated group of fans waiting for them on the tarmac. Jaime looked out the window as the plane touched down, stomach sinking as he saw the screaming teenage girls bearing signs and wearing shirts with his face on. Addam and Daven were waving through the glass: they _liked _this part of their job. 

Jaime would be much happier in the studio, or back at Casterly Rock with his piano. 

“Boys.” All three of them turned to Varys, their PR rep and babysitter. “We are visiting Tarth for three days. Tonight is dinner with Tarth’s representative to the Grand Council, Selwyn Tarth, and his teenage daughter.” Daven elbowed Addam; eyebrows raised. Jaime just sighed. “Tomorrow is the concert at the amphitheatre; the following night you’ll be performing at the Evenfall Fundraiser. Now, shall we meet your adoring fans?

After a quick refresh, the doors to the private jet opened and all three members of _Lionheart _descended onto the tarmac. Teenage girls and young women screamed their names; one girl held a sign saying JAIME, I WANT TO HAVE YOUR LION CUB, another sign said THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE. Pulling his lips upwards into a fake smile, he waved at their adoring fans. Addam clapped him on the shoulder as they headed over to sign autographs and take selfies. 

“The price of fame, eh?”

“Sure.” 

_Lionheart _fans were loud, and boisterous, and more than one began to cry as he said hello and offered to sign vinyl sleeves, t-shirts, and other merchandise. Having a son with good looks and a dreamy voice had provided Tywin Lannister with an unexpected windfall: accompanied by his cousin Daven, and childhood friend Addam, _Lionheart _topped charts and stole hearts. And added a considerable amount of new money to the Lannister coffers. 

Of course, if Jaime had had his way, he’d be a twenty-year-old attending music school in the Reach rather than on the second leg of their Westeros tour. 

He signed another t-shirt, was pulled in for another selfie, before one of their bodyguards eased him away. Varys addressed the disappointed fans. “_Lionheart _will be here for three days, lionesses.” That was the name of their fans. Jaime resisted the urge to groan. “You’ll see them again!”

A series of grumbles followed them as they continued along the tarmac to their meet-and-greet with Selwyn Tarth, envoy to the King’s Grand Council, and his daughter. The few members of the press that had bothered taking the ferry over to the Sapphire Isle took pictures of them as they walked up to the small airport terminal. In front of the building was a beast of a man: tall, rotund, with a well-kept white beard. He wore a poorly-tailored suit and two pins on his lapel: a sun and a moon. Beside him stood the only teenager in the vicinity _not _excited by their visit. 

“Boys, this is Selwyn Tarth, the King’s representative from Tarth. And this is his daughter, Brienne.” 

Jaime, as (for all intents and purposes) the lead singer of _Lionheart, _was the first one to step forward. He offered his hand for Mister Tarth to shake. “It’s a pleasure to visit the Sapphire Isle.” 

“It’s a pleasure to have you here.” 

The press snapped pictures of the two of them shaking hands, and then proceeded to photograph Addam and Daven doing the same. Jaime moved onto Selwyn’s daughter. A couple of years younger than Jaime, she was just as tall. Blonde hair resting atop her shoulders; freckles covering her face and any visible skin. The white blouse she wore sat ill on her wide shoulders. _Plain _would be a polite description; _ugly _would perhaps be more accurate. Other than those eyes. A man could quite happily drown in those. 

Jaime thrust out his hand. “Thank you for having us, Brienne.” 

“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, _Jaime.” _

He smirked. Her grip was strong, and Jaime held her hand back just as tight. “Not a fan of _Lionheart_? Let me guess.” He looked her up and down; his gaze lingering on a similar House Tarth pin upon her lapel, and a silver sword hanging on a thin chain around her neck. “I’d say you’re more of a Renly girl. Not that Renly _likes _girls.”

Brienne’s cheeks grew a ruddy hue, and Jaime knew he’d guessed right. The softer-spoken teenage girl seemed to prefer Baratheon, with his brooding good looks and soulful ballads. He spoke of chivalry and grand declarations. But it didn’t do him any good. _The Things We Do For Love _and _Oathbreaker _topped any of his hits; his last album hadn’t even broken the top ten. 

“Hopefully by the end of this visit, Brienne, we’ll count you as one of our superfans.” 

And then Jaime took her hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Cameras snapped the moment: Jaime Lannister kissing the hand of local politician’s daughter would be on new sites and social media within hours; magazine speculation would soon follow. If Brienne was a prettier girl, the vultures would suggest there was something more to it. _Lionheart Heartthrob has Island Romance; Has the Golden Lion met his Lioness? _But no, everyone would just see it as a polite PR move. 

Everyone apart from Brienne Tarth, who looked as if he’d just punched her in the face. _Well, _dinner was going to be boring anyway. At least this would make things more interesting. 


	90. "New Westerlands" - Immortal Jaime meets historian Brienne (Canon/Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, but I also need that JB esque New Amsterdam AU where Jaime doesn't die until he meets his soulmate and he outlives all his family until he meets historian Brienne Tarth" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your wish is my command! Hope you enjoy.

The taxi dropped him off outside his King’s Landing townhouse. It was one of a number in the Lannister family; one of a number he circulated through every few years so neighbours, colleagues didn’t become suspicious that Jaime Lannister never aged. Plastic surgery and expensive skincare treatments couldn’t account for looking thirty-six forever; nor could it explain why he just could _not _die. 

Until today, of course. A heart attack on an underground platform had come _fucking _close. 

“Detective Lannister?” 

There was a woman sitting upon his doorstep. Back in the golden age of Westeros, when Jaime had been a knight and he’d thought his soulmate was his sister, this woman would be considered ugly. A _beast. _But opinions had changed in the passing centuries. She wasn’t small; nothing about this woman was _delicate. _But her eyes were the blues of ocean water; her skin akin to marble. Her legs were long, gracing the pavement. He was intrigued by her, but that was where his interest ended. There had been no one, not for centuries. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough day, I just want to get inside my—”

“—please, I’d really like to talk—”

Jaime raised a single hand. “I don’t know whether you’re selling something, or trying to serve me, or want me to work harder on a cold case but whatever it is, I’ve had a day from _all _Seven Hells, and I just want to sleep.” 

He pushed past the woman, climbed the steps to his apartment, and had his key in the lock when she called out to him: “Kingslayer!” 

Jaime froze. No one had called him that in centuries. But how— “I’m sorry?” 

“Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne in his sixteenth year. Elevated to the Kingsguard at seventeen, the youngest man _or _woman ever to serve.” 

He turned from his front door, trying to adopt an air of nonchalance, as Tyrion would. But Jaime had never been as capable as either of his siblings, or his father. “That’s a nice little history lesson, Ms—”

“—Tarth. Brienne Tarth. I’m doing my doctorate in History at KLU. And I believe you are Ser Jaime Lannister, formerly of the Kingsguard.” He snorted. “Then the Golden Lion; a hedge knight who helped people recover after the Long Night. You were a castellan at Casterly Rock for a spell, and at Ashemark. Things get murky for a while, but you reappear in the North. You were Lord Commander—”

Jaime waved his hand. “I’m a detective inspector, Ms Tarth. I’ve never been a knight, I’ve never been a Lord Commander of anything. I’ve barely left King’s Landing.” 

Brienne, however, did not appear convinced. “I’m a historian, Ser Jaime. I have evidence on my side.”

“You have—” _Fuck it. _Who else had he to talk to? Blackwater, the latest line in a series of bastard sons paid in gold to protect the Lannisters, to protect _him_. He’d call him all manner of things and for once Jaime just wanted to _talk. _He hadn’t talked to anyone in a really _long_ time. “Fine. You’ve found out my secret. I’m a six-hundred-year-old knight from the golden age of heroes and wight walkers. What are you going to do about it?” 

Brienne Tarth retrieved a dictaphone from her bag. “Questions. I have _so many questions.” _

“Fine.”

This time, Jaime opened his front door. He ushered Brienne Tarth inside the townhouse, removed his coat and scarf, and walked into the downstairs living area where his new friend was staring at his pride and joy mounted on the main wall. Jaime busied himself making tea whilst the historian stared at the two blades hanging above his television. 

“These are real, aren’t they?”

“Widow’s Wail and Oathkeeper.” The kettle whistled. “Forged from Lord Stark’s sword, Ice. I used Oathkeeper to defend Winterfell during the Long Night; Widow’s Wail remained in Casterly Rock after the death of my nephews. I’d use them interchangeably; let people believe they fell into other hands.”

Brienne Tarth’s fingers brushed Oathkeeper’s lion pommel. “That’s why the history is incomplete.” 

“I imagine so.” He handed her a scarlet mug and took a sip from his own. “So, ask away, Ms Tarth.” 

“My first question…how are you alive?” 

The most important question of all. “When I slew Aerys Targaryen, the Gods cursed me. I was to walk this life alone until I met my soulmate. To never age, to never die.”

“But you were nineteen when you killed the Mad King.” 

Another sip of tea. Jaime had long since wondered _why _he’d stopped ageing at thirty-six and not thirty, or twenty-five, or the moment his blade had gone through the Mad King’s back. Tyrion, in his later years, had speculated whether his soulmate had walked the world back in the golden age. When the Stranger had taken her, his clock had stopped. Jaime knew little of his curse, only that he had survived the Long Night when better men had died, and that he’d found out during the battle of the Whispering Wood that his sister was _not _his soulmate. 

“I think I might have met her today, though.” Brienne’s eyes widened. “I was in the underground, chasing a suspect, and my heart stopped. One of the doctors pronounced me dead, but I came back. She’s out there, in King’s Landing. When we meet, when we’re _mated _or whatever the Gods deem necessary, the curse will finally be lifted.”

“We have to find her!”

Jaime was right to let Brienne Tarth into his home. Blackwater would have called him a golden cunt and told him to call an escort service. Brienne Tarth, for all her bloody history, was a romantic at heart. If anyone could help him find his soulmate, it was her. 


	91. "Podcast" - Jaime and Brienne host an erotic fiction podcast (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "OH OH OH! your idea of the day: best friends Jaime and Brienne host a podcast reading and ripping apart historical fiction featuring the Blue Knight and Goldenhand the Just." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I remember this idea! Thanks for the prompt, Anon. I’ve decided to write this in transcript form; I hope you enjoy.

J: You are listening to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. _This podcast contains strong language, violence, and explicit content. 

B: Basically, your brother’s Saturday night. 

*laughter*

J: It really is. See, this is why I spend my Saturday nights with you. Much quieter. Anyway, if this is your first time listening to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden, _I’m Jay and this is my best friend, Bee. We’re doctoral students in History at one of Westeros’ most prestigious universities: we won’t tell you which one as we’re just people, living our ordinary lives, and we don’t want to be besieged by adoring fans. 

B: All three of you.

J: Four including your Dad.

B: *sighs* Don’t remind me; I told you last week he asked me to expand on my thoughts on ancient Westerosi condoms.

J: Always use Sandsnake Condoms, kids; not sheep intestines. Anyway, Bee and I are history students. We also happen to be descendants of Goldenhand the Just and the Blue Knight from the age of heroes. 

B: A connection that only matters on the podcast, as Jay found out when he tried to touch Widow’s Wail in the Targaryen Museum of Ancient History. 

*more laughter*

J: Well, not all of us managed to keep our family heirlooms out of museum hands. So the idea for this podcast started during our undergraduate degree when we had a sort of…reading group.

B: A book club.

J: Yeah, both Bee and I enjoy historical fiction, and we thought it would be fun to read some of them together. But some of the stuff is really, _really _bad. And last year my brother started a podcast, it’s really quite well-known, it’s called _A Hundred Ways to Disappoint Your Father, _and he’s on episode 138, I think. 

B: Ty inspired us to do this.

J: He did. So, yeah, if you haven’t listened before, Bee and I read out really bad historical fiction featuring Goldenhand the Just and the Blue Knight. They fuck at _least _three times in every book, and last week I got a colour chart to see just how red Bee’s face goes. She went all the way to Casterly Red, which I thought was _very _appropriate.

*sound of Bee smacking Jay’s shoulder*

B: Piss off.

J: And on _that_ sweet note, let’s begin. We are currently reading _Pools of Blue, _it’s a story inspired by Goldenhand and Blue’s adventures clearing out the pirates from Tarth after the Long Night. The author is Alys Morrow, although she probably wouldn’t enjoy the free publicity. *clears throat* _Night had fallen over Evenfall, and Blue had retired after supper. She’d stripped herself of her armour, her tunic and breeches. She thought of Goldenhand in the next room, and of the fear she had felt when one of the Golden Company had pressed a knife to his throat. All they had gone through, and it could have all ended on the sands of Tarth. Tomorrow, they would face more villains. But for tonight, she would have her golden lion. _

*deep sighs*

B: From the journals of her father, the Evenstar during the War of the Five Kings, he described his daughter as reserved, especially in the company of men. I doubt she would wander stark naked into a man’s room looking for sex. 

J: Reminds me of that novel we read set during the Long Night, where the Dragon Queen’s Hand called her out for being a virgin. Just wouldn’t happen. The fact that Goldenhand canonically bedded only two women in his lifetime is ignored a lot, too. 

B: Oh, _Gods, _in the Trant novels he’s always got his cock in someone.

*Jay splutters*

J: Such the romantic, Bee.

B: Oh just keep reading. 

J: As my lady commands. *clears throat* _Wearing only a thin shift_—Oh, she’s wearing something at least—_Blue left her chambers and headed for the chambers of Goldenhand. Before her courage could escape her, she opened the door. _Without knocking, that’s rude.

B: And give him time to put his trousers on?

J: Well, that would be the polite thing. _Before her courage could escape her, she opened the door. Inside, the room was cast in soft, unyielding candlelight; the canopy bed cast in shadows of lovers past. Her gaze flickered to the crumpled sheets and hoped she would be one of many more—_fuck.

B: Oh Gods. If you’ve paused, it must be bad. 

J: _Hoped she would be one of many more women who had been bedded upon them. She could almost see the essence of her maidenhead staining the sheets alongside Goldenhand’s glorious seed. _

*both making gagging sounds*

B: I don’t want to hear the word _seed _ever again.

J: Thank the Gods you’re not a gardener; you’d be thinking about _Goldenhand’s glorious seed _every time you tried to plant some tomatoes. And you eat multi-seeded bread, too. Do you think you’ll picture Goldenhand’s glorious seed the next time you make a sandwich? Or some toast?

B: I think you should keep reading.

J: _And there he was, Goldenhand the Just. Standing in the thick candlelight as bare as his nameday. Golden hair dusted his torso and traversed his abdomen, finishing just above his pulsating member. Thicker than the hilt of her sword, and longer than any dagger she had ever carried. It was as red as his house colours—_fuck, that’s some dreadful description.

B: Now, Jay, you’ve seen more of…_these_ than I have. She’s taking some artistic licence, correct?

J: I think so? *he laughs* Let’s just say, if ever our friendship turns into something more, you’ll be _very _disappointed if you’re expecting something longer than any dagger you’ve ever carried. 

B: I don’t think I’d want anything longer than a dagger.

J: *laughs* Papa Bee, if you’re listening, I’d go make a cup of tea now. 

*Bee groans*

J: Where were we…okay, _Blue stared at the long, thick shaft; his golden hand wrapped around the base. _Now, canonically, the golden hand could only hold a wine goblet, as it was created by his alcoholic sister. 

B: Clearly, this hand was designed to hold his cock. 

J: I can’t believe you just said that.

*rustling sound*

J: You can’t see it, obviously, but Bee’s face is currently the ‘red woman’. Who names these colours? 

B: Stop being mean.

J: I’m not being mean, I’m just trying to paint a picture for our audience. You always go bright red when we get to the dirty bits. You practically went purple when Blue pegged Goldenhand at _The Dornishman’s Supper. _

B: I wasn’t the only one blushing during that book, _thank you. _

J: I don’t know _what _you’re trying to insinuate. Anyway, let’s get back to my ancestor’s throbbing cock, and your ancestor barging in uninvited whilst wearing the ancient equivalent of lingerie. 

B: If we _must._


	92. "Next Episode" - Jaime and Brienne continue with their podcast (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love the podcast prompt fill! If you decide to continue on with this one, this reader would be happy!!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! I am overwhelmed by the response to the podcast verse, so much so that I had to write a sequel! Prompt #91, here we go!

B: You are listening to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. _This podcast contains strong language, violence, and explicit sexual content.

J: The complete opposite of Brienne’s undergraduate degree. 

(rustling sound)

B: Really? We’re barely ten seconds in and already you’re picking on me. 

J: Fine, _fine, _I’ll be nice. Good evening, everyone, and welcome to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. _And good evening to you, Bee. How’s your week been?

B: I saw you this morning for breakfast. 

J: I know, but the listeners don’t know that. Also, you should say that you saw me earlier today. Saying you saw me for breakfast will make people think we’re sleeping together. 

B: Oh _please, _like _anyone _would think we would be sleeping together. 

J: It’s a podcast, Bee, they don’t know what either of us look like. Not that there’s…not that there’s anything _wrong _with how you look. You look…_fine. _

B: I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you. 

J: Aren’t you going to say something nice about me? 

B: You’re a lot less annoying than when we first met.

(laughter)

J: I honestly thought you were going to kill me that first week. 

B: Well Cat…I _mean, _Cee, our head of department and my doctoral adviser, told me I was better off waiting for you to drop out, or move to a less _rigorous _study program. 

J: Nice to know she had faith in me from the very first day. 

B: (shocked gasp) You…you…okay, listeners, Jay and I have known each other for five years now, and I have _just _managed to reach a point where we can have a conversation without him insulting me. The first week, _nay _the first _day, _he turned up in the lecture hall and every time I went to raise my hand he would jump in and answer the question first. He _had _to be the centre of attention. At one point, Cee actually told you to sit the fuck down. 

J: I’d had private tutors all my life; I didn’t know any better. 

B: That’s your answer for everything. (pause) We should probably get back to the podcast. Do you want to do all the housekeeping? I know you enjoy the sound of your own voice. 

J: You’re so rude to me. Everyone thinks you’re as pure as the Maiden, but you’re got a mean streak in you.

B: Because you’re rude to me first!

J: That’s your answer for everything. (Bee gasps) Anyway, as we’ve said, this is _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. _We read bad historical fiction and analyse it against our considerable knowledge in the field. We are both descendants of Goldenhand the Just and The Blue Knight, a popular topic in historical fiction and the real focus of this podcast. You can catch up with previous episodes wherever you get your podcasts, and you can send us questions or topics for future episodes at thebearandthemaiden@ravenmail.com.

B: And we really do welcome your comments and questions. So far the only people who have emailed us are the Dornish restaurant down the road giving us coupons, and my Dad who wanted to say he overheard someone say he listens to the podcast, and wanted to congratulate us on our success. 

J: Thank you, Papa Bee, we appreciate the support. And the ginger biscuits you sent last week, they were delicious. 

B: I wouldn’t know, Dad, Jay ate them all. 

J: And in the worst segue way of all time—

B: —don’t you dare.

J: We’re currently reading _Pools of Blue, _by Alys Morrow. Last chapter involved Ser Blue going to Goldenhand’s chambers, where he proceeded to…_go down on her, _before Goldenhand made the historically inaccurate error of claiming Ser Blue’s maidenhead before their hands were tied by a septon. The following chapter is entitled _The Rising Sun, _which will be read today by Bee. 

B: Do I have to?

J: We agreed; we switch off chapters. Come on, Bee. I have faith in you. 

B: Fine.(clears throat) _Goldenhand awoke beside his beloved. Creamy rays of sunlight sprung through the open window, bathing he and Blue in a halo of warmth. The cerulean sheets were crumpled and stained and kicked to the far foot of the bed. Both of them lay naked across the feather mattress, and Blue’s lithe form—_right I’ve got to stop it there, because I think we’re heading into historical inaccuracy and we’re barely a paragraph in. 

J: Morrow’s describing Ser Blue as lithe. 

B: The complete opposite of every description there is of Ser Blue. 

J: Keep reading, maybe it’s a typo. We’ve found seven already in this book. 

B: Alright. _Both of them lay naked across the feather mattress, and Blue’s lithe form was open to his heady gaze. Her legs were long and supple; her skin like the cream expressed from the teat of a cow. _I really hate you for making me read this. 

J: Come on. Keep reading, let me get the colour chart. 

B: _The blonde patch of hair between her legs was damp, as if covered by morning dew. Goldenhand was tempted to place his hand there, see if his sweetling was as wet as how she had gushed the night before. She had soaked the sheets, covered his golden fingers in her thick juices. _

(Jay sniggers)

B: Stop laughing. _Her hips were slender, her waist so small he could wrap an entire arm around it. _That’s not right. From all the reading I’ve done on my ancestor, she was my height, my build. She’s not some dainty little maiden. 

J: Even in the fight scene with the pirates, Goldenhand ultimately finished the job after her botched rescue attempt. And, canonically, Ser Blue was the better fighter after Goldenhand, well, _lost his hand. _

B: Canonically _the better fighter, _you don’t need the caveat. 

(Jay laughs)

J: He was knighted at sixteen. Ser Blue wasn’t—

B: —you cannot compare the privilege of a teenage boy in one of the nine great houses to a teenage girl in a minor noble house! And she was a gifted fighter, better than he was. In the single fight—

J: —you always do this, you always bring up the bridge. He was in _chains, _he’d been a prisoner for _years. _And we have no corroboration of that fight other than the ramblings of one of Lord Bolton’s men, and as a story passed down through the generations. There is no physical proof. 

B: Well, is there anything we _can _agree on?

J: That this book is terrible, and honestly, I can’t listen to another word of it. 

B: Agreed. Put it on the list?

J: On the list.

B: Well, we’ve made the executive decision to put _The Pools of Blue _by Alys Morrow on our ‘Inaccurate and Awful’ list a full 227 pages earlier than planned. 

J: Thank the Gods. So, what’s next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to request a follow-up, another prompt, or if you have any questions for our favourite podcasters *wink* please send them to me at ddagent.tumblr.com :)


	93. "Next Caller" - Jaime calls into the radio show hosted by Renly and Brienne (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "from you iotd: Radio DJ Brienne hosts an early hours show that Jaime, suffering after the loss of his hand, always listens to." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was one of my ideas, but even I had to do a twist on it. Also, all my radio knowledge is pretty much from watching Frasier, so apologies for any inaccuracies. I hope you enjoy it all the same, Anon! Prompt #92!

“Well, it’s coming up to two-thirty am, listeners. We’re going to play the new track by Arianne Sand, and then take a few of your calls. You’re listening to Renly Baratheon on _Shipbreaker FM, 89.20.”_

In the booth, Renly cued up the latest track and slipped his headphones down when the _off air _light went on. Through the glass separating them, he offered Brienne a warm, easysmile that made her stomach flip. And then, as it always did, Renly’s gaze slid away and he busied himself prepping for promos or checking his phone. There would be another song after this, some cheesy pop track from Essos that they would roll their eyes over, and their shared moment would disappear in favour of the handful of callers waiting to tell Renly exactly _why _they were up at this time of the morning. 

Brienne tapped her pencil on the desk as she waited for the switchboard to light up. When it did, she grabbed the phone and said, “_Rise with Renly, _can I take a name and number?”

“_It’s Jaime. I think you’ve already got my number.”_

Her fingers hesitated on the notepad in front of her. She swallowed, then, “Yes, I’ve–I’ve got your number.”

_“Show seems quiet tonight. Not many callers?” _

“Um—” Brienne glanced towards the booth, saw that Renly was otherwise occupied, but still swivelled her chair to hide her flushed cheeks from view. A silly thing to do: Renly was in _no _way her boyfriend, and it wasn’t as if Three Am Jaime was, either. But still, she hid. “It’s always quiet in the New Year. It picks up around Maiden’s Day, though.” 

_“I’d say that’s good, but it means I’ll have to fight to get through to you.”_

Of course, Three Am Jaime didn’t mean _her _specifically. He meant the show, _Rise with Renly. _And even if he _did _– which he most certainly did _not; _no one called these shows to talk to the producer – Three Am Jaime was just a voice. A _pleasant _voice, true, but there was as much a pane of glass between her and Jaime as there was between her and Renly. 

And yet: “I’ll always put you through. You have my word.”

“_Good to know.”_

The Arianne song had wound up, and the pop track from Essos was on its last verse. Brienne turned her chair around to face the glass, before putting Jaime on hold ready for him to talk to Renly. Despite working in radio since university, she’d begun to loathe this part; the switch-over. It felt as if Renly was taking something that was _hers. _But none of this was. Not the show, not the callers. Not Renly, and _certainly _not Three Am Jaime. 

The pop song ended, and a despondent Brienne cued Renly in. “Welcome back, listeners. If you’ve just tuned in, this is _Rise with Renly _on Shipbreaker FM. We’re now taking a few of your calls, seeing what you’re up to this time of the morning. Brienne, who do we have first?”

She leaned into the microphone. “We have one of our regulars, Jaime from Storm’s End.” 

Renly mouthed ‘_again?’ _but still took the call. “Nice to talk to you again, Jaime. What is it, the third day this week?”

“_If you’ve got another caller, by all means.”_

Dead air punctuated the booth. Eyes wide, Brienne waved at Renly to fill the empty space. Despite calling during every show, Three Am Jaime didn’t seem to _like _Renly very much. Brienne entertained the notion that Jaime called to hear _her _voice, but she brushed that away almost as soon as she’d thought it. He was probably up early to check in with the Braavos stockmarket, or because his third child with his beautiful wife was awake and needing feeding. He just needed something to listen to. 

No need to imagine something that wasn’t there. 

“We’re always happy to talk to you, Jaime. So, I know why Brienne and I are up this early. How about you?”

“_Storm kept me awake. Not used to it.”_

Renly chuckled. “What, this spit of rain, that little gust of wind? You’re not from the Stormlands, are you, Jaime?”

_“No, I’m originally from the Westerlands. I moved here a few months ago.”_

“What brought you east?”

“_Frankly, Renly, that’s a little personal for this time of the morning.”_

“Sure, sure.” Through the glass, Renly rolled his eyes, and Brienne pinned a thin smile to her features. She understood the appeal of anonymity to some radio callers, but others just didn’t feel comfortable sharing their lives on the airwaves. She got that. “So, have you got a song of the week, Jaime?”

_“I liked Brienne’s choice.” _She couldn’t hold back her smile this time._ “Give me a Blackfish song any day of the week. Arianne’s not bad; she’s certainly better than your choice last week.” _

Renly huffed. “I don’t want to drive listeners away, Jaime, but if you’re not a fan of the show—”

_“—the first few episodes I heard were really good. Back when I first moved to Storm’s End, I couldn’t sleep, so I put on the radio and listened to the show. It was just after Crone’s Day.”   
_

Brienne’s head snapped up. She remembered their show just after Crone’s Day: Renly had been taken ill on-air and, with no one else to cover, she’d hosted the show until Balon Swann had taken over from her at six am. That was the first night Jaime had called. She’d been distraught, barely keeping it together, and he was the only one who called _not _asking for an update about Renly. They talked about Tarth FC and Lannisport City for twenty minutes until she decided she _really _needed to play a song. 

_“Thank you for calling; you have no idea how much you’ve helped me tonight.”_

_“Funny. I was going to say thank you for picking up, for the exact same reason.”_

“You’re a fan of Brienne’s then,” Renly said, one eyebrow raised as he stared at her through the glass.

_“Who wouldn’t be?”_

For once, when Brienne’s stomach fluttered as she looked into the booth, it wasn’t because of Renly Baratheon. 


	94. "Click Here" - Margaery sends Brienne a video of her new neighbour (Modern AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lol the anon who is still thinking about Nikolaj's very cute bum WEEKS later. Lol, my first thought was porn star au but I didn't have enough imagination to figure out how B would believably get into the industry (there's a reason you're the writer and i'm the reader) so I went leaked unintentional sex tape route but now that you've said it I have to prompt: porn star au please" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon, I do not blame you: I regularly think about Nikolaj’s cute bum. I love my environmentally friendly danish pastry. ANYWAY, I have a couple of ideas relating to JB + porn: I, too, struggled with Brienne getting into the industry, but I could totally see her doing unsimulated sex for a proper film. And, also, I have porn star!Jaime/fan!Brienne. Which is what I shall write for you now, because I want to write some filth. This is probably not for the faint of heart, but I hope you enjoy.

Brienne was looking through her latest student essays when her phone buzzed beside her. Grateful for the respite, she put the papers to one side and reached for the device. Perhaps it was her new tenant needing help with the boiler. But it was just Margaery, who had only left two hours ago. 

> **Margaery: **I KNEW I recognised your renter B4!! FUCK B, check out this link: [www.littlefingerlegends.com/vid/74561](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.littlefingerlegends.com%2Fvid%2F74561&t=MzA0MTE4ZTUzNmRmNzNiZDk5NjBkZmMyZmYzNTZjMmQ5NjU1ODU4NSxmRUxUQlRrbQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ah4FuL29Nor_zD05DaJ5QrA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fddagent.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190104506767%2Flol-the-anon-who-is-still-thinking-about-nikolajs&m=1)

A crease formed across Brienne’s forehead. Jaime Lannister had seemed nice enough when he’d replied to her ad looking for a tenant downstairs. He checked all her boxes: non-smoker, polite (_well_, not overly rude), no musical instruments, had first, last and a deposit. Of course, when her friend Margaery had found out she’d rented the flat downstairs to a man, she _had _to check him out. And check him out she had. 

“I _know _I recognise him from somewhere,” she’d whispered to Brienne, ogling him blatantly in the stairwell. “I just can’t think _where.”_

“He’s probably a model,” Brienne had explained. “He’s certainly—”

Brienne’s assertation that her new neighbour was attractive had certainly distracted Margaery from his identity. Long enough for Jaime to head into his own flat, and for Brienne to usher her friend upstairs where she spent the majority of her visit checking fashion shows and perfume ads, and giving Brienne tips on how to seduce the renter downstairs. Not that she was even interested. _As if he ever would. _

> I told you he’s a model. 
> 
> **Margaery: **He is NOT a model. Just watch, B, and use your 7mas present from urs truly. 

She shot a sideways glance at her bedside table and the vibrator inside, still in its original packaging. Where it would remain, no matter _what _this video was. Brienne knew she should respect Jaime’s privacy. But she also knew that Margaery would badger her until she viewed it. And…she _really _didn’t want to read any more inaccurate interpretations of Goldenhand the Just. So, Brienne’s thumb pressed the link included in Margaery’s text. 

A site sprang up in colours of black and gold. The video was entitled ‘The Queen and her Guards’. _Hmm. Maybe Jaime was in a documentary series. _She imagined they needed actors for those silent reenactments. So Brienne settled against her pillows and watched. A tall, blonde woman in flowing blue robes entered the frame. A silver crown rested atop her head. A door opened, and in walked her downstairs neighbour! Jaime was dressed in a rather _poor _imitation of the Kingsguard armour. One snap and those things would come straight off. 

“_Your Grace, your silence worries me so.”_

_“Lord Commander, I am silent out of grief. Grief for a pleasure I will never experience again. My husband offers me no passion in our marriage bed.”  
_

What. The. Fuck. 

_“You should have said something, Your Grace.” _The camera panned close to Jaime as he wet his top lip. “_There are seven of us who would gladly serve our Queen, in any way you wish.” _

_No…_Brienne’s eyes widened, yet she could not look away.

The actress on-screen placed a hand atop her forehead. _“You mean, you all would pleasure me? But you swore an oath—”_

_“—to take no wife, to father no children. That does not mean we can’t fuck your cunt, Your Grace.”   
_

Brienne was affronted on behalf of the brave men of the Kingsguard who would be _disgusted _that the white cloak had been tarnished in such a fashion. But then the actress playing the Queen tore off Jaime’s white cloak. And his armour. Soon enough, her downstairs neighbour was in nothing more than his nameday suit. Taut muscle; firm cock. Brienne gasped as he took himself in hand and pumped his shaft. 

“_Brothers, get in here. Let’s serve our Queen.”_

Brienne lay, hand over her mouth, as she watched six other…_porn stars _enter the frame. They were all young and golden and handsome, but not nearly as captivating as Jaime. Whilst the camera wanted you to focus on the six men touching their Queen – and each other – Brienne was focussed on her downstairs neighbour. The way he stroked his cock; how his thumb would swipe over the head and the moisture beading at the tip. Her body flooded with warmth; arousal stirring in her belly. 

“I should—”

_Oh, _but then Jaime was crawling onto the bed beside his Queen. One of her hands was sifting through his golden hair; longer than it had been when Brienne had seen him earlier that day, but no less soft, strokable. The Queen reeled Jaime closer and pressed her mouth to his in a searing kiss. Whilst the Lord Commander’s tongue slipped inside Her Grace’s mouth, one of the Queensguard began swirling his tongue around one of the Queen’s nipples. Brienne ran the palm of her hand over her own breast, feeling the erect tip through the fabric. She tweaked the bud until she gasped; the shame at touching herself to her neighbour washed away by sheer _lust. _

_“Is this what you need, Your Grace?”_

Jaime’s hand slid down the actress’ bare form whilst Brienne’s knuckles brushed the crotch of her jeans. It didn’t take much for her hand to slip inside her waistband, or for Jaime’s fingers to enter the Queen’s cunt. Her hand mimicked Jaime’s movement; Brienne’s eyes transfixed to the screen as he fingered her clit before thrusting two deep inside her. The Queen’s back bowed, mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’, as two of her Queensguard began to suck at her breasts. 

“Fuck. _Fuck.” _

The camera seemed to know who it’s moneymaker was, as it lingered on Jaime rather than the other six actors, or the young woman having her legs spread wide by eager hands. Brienne watched, the pads of her fingers rubbing her clit, as Jaime’s mouth left soft kisses across the Queen’s sternum and down her belly. And then he settled himself between her legs; one hand on the top of her knee whilst the other stroked himself even harder. Drawing in a ragged breath, Brienne’s touch grew firmer; two fingers inside herself, now. 

And then Jaime was inside her. 

In the few porn videos she, Margaery and Renly had watched back at university, Brienne had been put off by the seemingly gargantuan appendages the men seemed to possess. Jaime was nothing like that. He looked like a golden god as he took his Queen; his cock thick and hard and almost _beautiful_. The wet sounds of him fucking the actress sounded far too loud in her quiet bedroom, but they were soon joined by the noise of Brienne’s fingers sliding against her clit as she fucked herself in unison to Jaime’s thrusts. As one of the Queensguard lifted her leg to rest over Jaime’s shoulder, taking the Queen deeper, Jaime glanced towards the camera. 

It was at that point that Brienne came, biting her pillow so as to not scream her neighbour’s name into the stillness. 


	95. "Footnotes" - Jaime and Brienne answer a question from one of their listeners (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So with the podcast verse was there any historical relationship between Goldenhand and the Blue Knight or is it all just artistic licence by the authors? Feel free to answer this yourself or if you’re feeling absolutely amazing I’d love another follow up" (pedants-united)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mini-follow up because I just couldn’t resist the idea of answering this in character. I hope more people send in questions because I thoroughly love this podcast AU.

J: You are listening to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden_. This podcast contains strong language, violence, and explicit sexual content.

B: _Well, _you’re listening to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden: The Footnotes._

J: Like in a book. 

B: Yes, Jay, like in a book.

(pause)

J: She’s got that very patient look on her face. 

B: It’s my ‘I know you’re only doing this for effect’ look. Now go on, you won the coin toss, you get to explain.

J: Thank you, Bee. Now, we’ve had a new influx in subscribers, which is very exciting!

B: It also meant Dad sent us more biscuits, which I actually got to eat some of this time. 

J: You had some of the last batch.

B: Crumbs, Jay, I had crumbs.

J: Anyway, these footnotes are an opportunity to reply to questions sent to our email—

B: — thebearandthemaiden@ravenmail.com—

J: —so we can talk a little more in-depth about history, and the books we choose, and...well, and our relationship. 

B: Thankfully today’s question isn’t about us. 

J: Well, it is, _technically. _pedants-united@ravenmail.com has emailed us asking, “Was there any historical relationship between Goldenhand and the Blue Knight or is it all just artistic licence by the authors?” Which I think is a very good question.

B: A very good question, and it’s probably one we should have answered earlier.

J: Because, _technically, _Bee and I are related. 

B: Six hundred-year-old cousins. The average DNA we share is less than 0.01%

J: You’ve looked into it, clearly. Wanting to see how icky things could be if we ever decided to be _more _than friends?

B: I’m sorry, I’m not the one who has incest running in their family. Your great-however-many grandfather _did _sleep with his sister and produce three children. And, Goldenhand and the Mad Queen were themselves products of incest, as their parents were first cousins. 

J: It’s funny how he becomes _my _great-however-many grandfather when it comes to the _bad _stuff. 

B: _Yes, _because you share his family name and I share hers. _Literally. _

J: Anyway, incest was more commonplace back then.

B: So were a lot of things, it doesn’t make it right! (pause) Getting back to your question, pedants-united, _yes, _Goldenhand the Just and Ser Blue were involved in a romantic relationship. There are many different accounts of their time together, both before _and _after the Long Night, but we know they were married in the sept at Evenfall Hall, and we know they had three children: Catelyn, Brynden, and Joanna. 

J: From the records at Casterly Rock, we know that Catelyn married Damon Marbrand. That was the start of my family tree.

B: And we know that Brynden married Alys Payne, and begun mine. 

J: As for their parents, Goldenhand the Just and Ser Blue, there are only _some _historical accounts to back up the creativity taken in these novels. 

B: I would argue it’s unlikely that Goldenhand the Just was pegged in Dorne.

(Jay laughs)

J: I would pay fifty gold dragons to see you argue that in a lecture hall. And some men _like _to get pegged, Bee.

(pause)

J: Well look at that. Casterly Red in ten seconds. That’s a new record, listeners!

(pause)

B: I hope that’s answered your question, pedants-united. If you have any more questions, listeners, or book titles you think we should check out, just email us.

J: Please distract us from student essays. They’re really bad this year.

B: JAY! 


	96. "Paperback" - Brienne and Jaime read a secondhand romance novel (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hiii! I'm so in love with the podcast verse. Can I formally request another bit about them, in case you were planning to continue their shenanigans? Thank you!" (twelvemonkeyswere)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #95, here we go! I hope you enjoy.

B: Today’s episode of _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden _is sponsored by _Blackwater Brewery._

J: What have I got to do—

B: —just read that bit out.

J: Who _wrote _this?

B: Bronn did. Just read it out.

J: We don’t _need _sponsors.

B: Yes we do, Jay. Your ancestor may have had a golden hand, but you don’t have two gold dragons to rub together and neither do I. Buying all these books costs money, as does the equipment, as does the wine necessary to forget some of the things we’ve read. So just _read_ it.

J: _Fine. _For you. Today’s episode of _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden _is sponsored by _Blackwater Brewery. _Made in King’s Landing, this beer is good. Tastes good enough, not that any of the rich…_people _who live in King’s Landing could tell the difference. Get a free case at blackwaterbrewery.com, using the voucher code _golden cunt. _Fucking Bronn.

B: Probably should have mentioned that this podcast contains strong language from the outset, literary violence, and explicit sexual content.

(tourney horn plays)

J: Well, listeners, welcome to another episode of _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden. _Last week we began reading a paperback Bee picked up during a visit to Estermont with Papa Bee: _The Wedding at Dragonstone. _Bee, why don’t you describe the cover.

B: Oh _Gods, _alright. So it’s a dark blue—

J: —one would almost say _Tarth _blue—

B: —cover, with what I assume to be Goldenhand and Ser Blue in a passionate embrace. He’s shirtless, and standing behind her. She’s in a white gown, with a red cloak, and there looks to be lions head broaches on her shoulders. 

J: The dress is also gathered up towards her thigh revealing a lot of leg. 

B: She’s got her neck tilted back towards him, as if Ser Blue was _ever _shorter than Goldenhand. And they both look very…_happy. _

J: They’re on the brink of orgasm.

B: Sure.

J: So, _The Wedding at Dragonstone _is one of the many historical fiction novels set after the Long Night. It features the wedding between Queen Daenerys Stormborn and King Jon of the South. I’ve actually just led a module on Queen Daenerys—

B: —which you received complaints about in the student feedback forms. 

J: It is our duty as historians to question these figures and their decisions. 

B: You argued that if Goldenhand had had breakfast after the Sack of Highgarden, he would have been able to kill one of her dragons. 

J: I truly believe his blood sugar was low that day. 

(Bee laughs)

B: You are _utterly _ridiculous.

J: And yet, you’re still spending time with me. 

B: (deep sigh) Yes, I am. Back to the book: as we discussed in the last episode, there is no historical basis for this marriage. Whilst there are documented accounts of a relationship between them before the Long Night, Queen Daenerys Stormborn became Queen Daenerys of Valyria and remained across the sea until her death. 

J: So _The Wedding at Dragonstone _never happened. Our interest, however, is how accurate it is as an alternate history. 

B: Last chapter, Goldenhand and Ser Blue arrived at Dragonstone after—

J: —having sex in the bowels of the ship, _as loud as a siren’s song. _

B: Oh, Gods.

J: And now they’ve been taken to their rooms, where they’re alone once again.

B: I read last week, so it’s your turn. 

J: With pleasure. _Chapter II: The Ties That Bind. After they had been escorted to their chambers for the duration of the wedding, Goldenhand summoned wine and bread to sate his hunger and thirst. His lust would be satisfied with his betrothed, who had placed herself at the window to stare out at the unyielding sea. In two days time, King Jon would take the Dragon Queen’s—_right, I’ve just read ahead, and clearly, they haven’t done their research. 

B: She was married to a Khal, wasn’t she.

J: She was, and to someone else in Meereen. King Jon has nothing to take on his wedding night, other than pleasure in his new bride, of course. 

B: Of course. 

J: _King Jon would take the Dragon Queen’s innocence _(Jay laughs) _upon the snow-white sheets. In time, he and Ser Blue would also face a bedding ceremony. Only he had claimed her maidenhead many moons before, and would do so again before they returned to their ship for home. _That’s not how biology works. 

B: Do you remember Cee’s module on the prevalence of the virginity myth in ancient Westerosi culture? I really want to send every author we read a copy of her paper. 

J: We really would need sponsors, then. The postage alone…

B: Just keep reading.

J: (adopts a low voice) _“Ser Blue, is my lady well?”_

B: (laughs) What was that?

J: I’m doing the voices.

B: We’re not babysitting your niece and nephew. 

J: You like my voices when we read _Rhaegal the Friendless Dragon_.

B: _Fine, _but if we get complaints from our listeners, that’s on you.

J: Okay. (low voice) “_Ser Blue, is my lady well?”_ (high-pitched voice) _“Of course, my golden lion!”_

B: (splutters) She does _not _sound like that!

J: If you want to read this chapter, be my guest. But when I read, I’m doing the voices. (low voice) “_Well, then come from the window, my Sweetling. My appetite grows dangerous, and I wish to feast upon your cunt.” _

B: Surely he can wait for the bread and wine. 

J: He’s a hungry man. (high-pitched voice) “_I wish to aid you in your feast, my lion. Lie upon the bed, let me bring your plate to you.” _What the fuck.

B: I’m really worried what she’s going to do. 

J: Does the potential for cannibalism make this book more or less interesting? (sighs) _Goldenhand stripped himself of his tunic and breeches, made with loose stitches so he could remove them himself. _Has Jeyne Swann invented velcro centuries earlier than thought?

B: It’s like he’s a stripper. 

J: _He then settled himself atop the bed, his golden hand caressing the hand line of his turgid length. _Where did this come from, that his golden hand was large enough to fit his penis in?

B: You should do a paper, present it at the conference in two months. 

J: ‘The Inaccurate Representation of Goldenhand the Just’s Metal Appendage’. Can you imagine Doctor Barath—”

B: _Jay._

J: Doctor Antlers would burst a blood vessel. 

B: Just keep reading. I’m mildly interested to see if the poor writing continues to allude to Goldenhand actually eating his betrothed. 

J: He’s going to need something to wipe his mouth, whatever happens. 

B: You’re disgusting. 

J: Don’t knock the experience until you’ve tried it, Bee. On either side of the equation. 

(tourney horn plays)


	97. "Mother of Dragons" - Jaime is escorted to King's Landing by the Lady of Tarth and her pets (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompt: Brienne is the one who gets dragon eggs (she has targaryen blood in her Tarth lineage) and she is the one in posession of 3 dragons. So when she takes prisoner Jaime across Westeros on Cats orders, she does so while totting 3 dragons. Or something like that?" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell in love with this idea as soon as you prompted it. I hope you enjoy my take!

A year ago, Brienne had been on Tarth; the winds of war barely reaching their shores. Back then, she could not have imagined the journey ahead of her: escorting the Kingslayer back to the capital, with three dragons in tow. Truly, she could not decide which felt more absurd. 

The eggs – one black, one gold, one with scales as blue as the waters near home – had been in Brienne’s possession ever since her seventh nameday. A gift from her mother beyond the veil; tucked away in some forgotten corner of Evenfall Hall until one of her father’s mistresses had found them. The woman had tried to sell them, of course, which had led to her dismissal from Tarth. And Brienne had gained three dragon eggs that had featured in many a game during her childhood. She drew strength from them, something _old _and _more _than herself, like the sea. When Brienne had left to join Renly’s campaign, she had taken the eggs with her. 

The night Renly had been slain, a fire had broken out in the camp. Much to Lady Catelyn’s despair, Brienne had rushed inside to save her eggs. She found them just as they cracked open, and suddenly there was magic in the world once more. Lady Catelyn was a _good _woman: she told no one in the Stark camp of the dragons, not even her son. When Brienne pledged herself to escort Jaime Lannister south, she had advised her to do the same. 

“Dragons _mean _something in this world, Brienne. If the Lannisters know you have not one but _three, _they will cut you down and take them from you.”

“Then they should remain with you. Keep you safe whilst I cannot.”

Lady Catelyn had grasped her hands, then, before glancing at the three dragons resting their heads outside a wicker basket. “They will not answer to me, Brienne. You are their protector, as much as you are mine. Now go, and may the Gods keep you on your journey.”

It took all of three days before the Kingslayer became aware of her dragons. He’d questioned the basket she carried on her back, wondering if it was food or water she deigned not to share. At dusk one evening, whilst she had relieved herself behind a tree, the Kinsglayer’s curiosity had got the better of him. His screams threatened to bring both Lannister and Stark armies atop them, and she had threatened to rip out his tongue unless he be _quiet. _

The Kingslayer was strangely subdued after that. Despite her dragons barely being the size of a cat, he seemed afraid of them. Brienne trusted his fear enough to leave him in their care whilst she foraged for fresh rabbit. After all, she had five mouths to feed, now. When she returned to their camp, however, she found the Kingslayer smiling. The sapphire dragon was chewing on the rotten laces of his boots. The black dragon was nudging his knee with his head. And the gold one was looking up at him expectantly, as if waiting to be petted. 

“They’re not as bad as I thought,” he proffered, lips twitching as her dragons waddled in her direction now that Brienne had returned. “Not the fire-breathing monstrosities your relative would have kept locked in the bowels of the Red Keep?” 

“Relative?” she asked whilst she built a spit for the rabbits.

“Aerys Targaryen. Is that why you hate me so? I killed a treasured uncle who liked to burn people alive in their armour.” 

“Many in the Stormlands have Targaryen blood; I never met Aerys Targaryen nor did I wish to.” She skinned the rabbits whilst her three dragons watched. “The eggs were a gift from my mother. _Dracarys.”_

_Better than a flint. _Soon the rabbits were roasting, and the five of them could eat. Unfortunately, while Jaime Lannister’s fear of her dragons had waned, his curiosity had not. Nor, however, had their curiosity of _him. _Having been hidden most of their young lives in baskets and under blankets, they must assume that any new acquaintance was a trustworthy one, like Lady Catelyn. Brienne wished she could impart upon her dragons that the Kingslayer was _not _to be trusted. 

And, yet, they went back to chewing his shoelaces whilst the rabbits cooked. “What are their names?”

“I—” In the haste of leaving Renly’s camp, and of the need for secrecy with the Starks, she had not yet named her dragons. “They have no names. Not yet.”

Leaving the rabbits, Brienne approached her dragons. The one with the jet black scales immediately left the Kingslayer’s side and nudged her finger with his head. “Renly.”

“You can’t call a dragon _Renly,_” scoffed the Kingslayer. “You should call them fearful things, _frightful things, _that when children speak their names they shudder in their beds.”

“I have no wish for my dragons to frighten _anyone.”_

“Other than me, my Lady. You used my fear against me. It was…unexpected.” He almost sounded impressed. Brienne did not wish to gain anyone’s approval, least of all that of the Kingslayer. “_Fine, _call them what you will, but Renly is a foolish name for such a creature.” 

“_Fine._” She looked at the dragon beside her hand and spoke the first name that came to her; one she had spoken often when she had played with the eggs as a child. “Galladon.” 

The Kingslayer’s mouth twitched. “The Just Maid. Not what I would have chosen, but certainly more appropriate than _Renly.”_

Galladon batted Brienne’s head once again, before returning to nudging Lannister’s side. The dragon with the sapphire scales was still chewing his shoelaces. Her egg had been Brienne’s favourite as a child; a Stormlands treasure if she had ever seen one. 

“Elenei.” 

The dragon stopped, looked at Brienne, and bowed her head before attacking the laces of the Kingslayer’s other boot. Brienne assumed that meant Elenei approved of her name. That left her final dragon, the one with golden scales as rich as the Lannisport mines, and who seemed settled in the Kingslayer’s company. 

“Gerion,” he suggested, interrupting Brienne’s train of thought. “From an adventurer lost across the Narrow Sea.” 

Their eyes met across the dragons. There was no hate in his gaze; no fear, either. A wistfulness, a desire to go _home. _Brienne felt that often. As much as she had longed to serve Renly, the familiar waters of Tarth beckoned in the still moments of her journey. Perhaps the sea surrounding Casterly Rock called to him, too.

Then he bowed his head, and the moment disappeared. She swallowed, and looked away, too. “All right. Gerion, Elenei, and Galladon. I should tend to the rabbits.”

“May I have some meat?”

“Have no fear, Kingslayer, I _will _feed you.”

“I know,” he said, huffing. “I wish to feed Gerion.”

It was a curious thing watching Jaime Lannister, hands still bound, offer a piece of cooked rabbit to the golden dragon on his lap. She noticed his smile more than once before it disappeared, and Brienne wondered whether he would have played similar games to her as a child had he, too, been in possession of three dragon eggs. She believed he would.


	98. "Libel" - Jaime and Brienne answer questions on their podcast (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For the podcast verse, a question from a listener: "Hi there Jay and Bee! Long time listener, first time writer. You guys have read a lot of awful and very historically inaccurate fiction about Goldenhand and Blue Knight, but are there any books out that that get their story right? I know there isn't a whole lot of information about them, but have any novels even tried to stick with historical facts? Thanks for taking my question, love the show! ~Jane"" (notjanebond)
> 
> "For the podcast ‘verse if you’re so inclined! Hi Bee and Jay! Were the names of Goldenhand the Just and Ser Blue lost to history? Or are they just widely unknown?" (elizadunc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I’d get in some more podcast verse before I stop for some food. Happy reading! <3

J: The following podcast contains strong language, literary violence, and explicit sexual content. 

(tourney horn plays)

B: Welcome, everyone, to _The Bear and the Poorly Written Maiden, _the footnotes. I know it hasn’t been that long since our last episode but we are—

J: —procrastinating from poorly written student essays. 

B: (sigh) As we’ve mentioned, Jay and I are doctoral students, and part of that includes teaching some of the undergraduates. Some of them are very adept, others are—

J: —idiots.

B: —struggling with the material, and the rigour of the course. So, we thought we’d take a break, reply to a few of your questions, and finish off the lemon curd biscuits that arrived in the post this morning and hope that Jay doesn’t spray the microphone with crumbs. 

J: I make no promises. 

B: Well, at least you’re not an oathbreaker like your ancestor. 

J: Really? You’re bringing up the Mad King–oh, you can’t see this, listeners, but Bee is smiling. Never trust a girl from the Stormlands. They appear virtuous and honourable but they’ve got a sharp tongue, too.

B: It’s the Goldenhand in me. 

(long pause)

J: I–uh–I’m going to read one of your questions now, listeners. So, this was sent to our email – thebearandthemaiden@ravenmail.com – and it’s from notjanebond. She says, “Hi there Jay and Bee!” Hello yourself. 

B: Hello!

J: “Long time listener, first time writer. You guys have read a lot of awful and very historically inaccurate fiction about Goldenhand and Blue Knight, but are there any books out that that get their story right?”

B: Interesting question.

J: “I know there isn’t a whole lot of information about them, but have any novels even tried to stick with historical facts? Thanks for taking my question, love the show!” That’s very nice.

B: She sounds very sweet. 

J: Should have included your address, Papa Bee would have sent you some biscuits.

B: He’s more excited than we are when we have fans. 

J: Anyway, is there any books that get them right? 

B: Historical _fiction, _though, so not textbooks. 

J: _The King’s Road _is one of my favourites; it’s one of the books we bonded over, wasn’t it?

B: Final year of undergraduate, yeah.

J: Basically, _The King’s Road _is a story of how Goldenhand _became _Goldenhand: it covers his time in Stark captivity and then his return to King’s Landing. It’s less of a romance and more of a burgeoning friendship, and it uses a lot of the journals and records from the Stark camp, Bolton’s men, and of Qyburn, the Mad Queen’s Hand. 

B: Interestingly enough, there’s another book called _Off the King’s Road _which follows a similar path but is a _lot _more explicit. I remember reading a chapter of it in school before the librarian, Septa Roelle, caught me. 

J: How red was your face?

B: _Oh, _Casterly Red. I’ll see if I can’t track down a copy. But I think it’s fair to say that a lot of the historical romances take liberties. (pause) _The Hour of the Wolves _is a short story collection set during the Long Night, and one of the stories concerns Goldenhand and Ser Blue. It’s very poignant; romantic, but not overly so. 

J: There’s a new book coming out called _Evenstar, _which promises to be a lot closer to historical events. 

B: The author actually contacted Dad and me for information. Should be a good read. 

J: We’ll have to read it on the podcast when it comes out. So, in answer to your question notjanebond, there _are _some books out there that are more historically accurate, but a lot of the ones we read just take a few basic facts and ignore the rest. We should read some Trant on the podcast; those are _terrible. _

B: If we _must._

J: It’s why people listen: they want to read the car crash literature; the bad sex acts and dialogue. And to hear how red your face gets when things get too explicit.

B: _Okay, _we have another question. This is from elizadunc. Oh, do you think that comes from Duncan the Tall?

J: Could be. What does she say?

B: She says, “Hi Bee and Jay!”

J: Hello elizadunc the Tall.

B: “Were the names of Goldenhand the Just and Ser Blue lost to history? Or are they just widely unknown?” That’s a really interesting question, and it’s less a case of _lost to history, _and more a case of…_libel? _

J: Bee and I have done a few papers about Goldenhand and Ser Blue, but we always refer to them as their actual names – which we won’t repeat in this podcast, because by some manner of coincidence, we share their names. 

B: As regards to a lot of historical fiction, one of the first novels published in this genre took a _huge _amount of creative licence with the representation of Goldenhand’s father, and, well—

J: —my House sued, and won.

B: So, a lot of writers now use the names the minstrels and mummers adopted during the reign of King Jon and afterwards to sing songs of the two knights. 

J: Interestingly, in _The King’s Road, _the events that would lead Goldenhand and Ser Blue to be called as much hadn’t happened yet. So, in a lot of the novels set before the Long Night, they’re referred to as the Kingslayer or the Golden Lion, and she’s referred to as the Maid or the Beauty.

B: One a comment, one a critique. Very fitting. 

J: Well, that’s the beauty of Goldenhand and Ser Blue: they complement each other, which is how love should be.

B: (pause) You always surprise me with these moments of sheer romanticism.

J: Well, like my ancestor, I _am _a romantic. Just need to find the right woman to bring it out in me. 

B: Thank the Gods you don’t have a sister. 

(tourney horn plays)


	99. "907 AC" - Ser Jaime Lannister wakes up 600 years in the future (Canon/Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "jb time travel au" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an updated version of an old idea, and prompt #98 of Cubs and Gemstones. I hope you enjoy!

The last thing Jaime remembered was collapsing against his mattress; the weight of another day washing over him. His wrist was healing, the pain was lessening, but what he’d lost still overwhelmed him. And there was still more to lose. His place within the Kingsguard was in question; his love had not yet come to him since his return. Not even the prospect of a good night’s sleep, without binds or chains, could cheer him. 

He slept soundly, however, and woke to sunlight pouring through his window in the White Sword Tower. Something nudged his hip. _Gods, _he had forgotten what a bed felt like. The feathers in this mattress felt softer, more…_supportive _of his back. Another nudge. Jaime turned over and opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh daylight. His gaze settled, surprisingly, on a child. Piercing blue eyes, an unruly mop of blonde hair; a single tooth buried in her bottom lip. She nudged his hip with her hand.

“Mama says you have to wake up now.”

“_What?”_

“Mama says you have to wake up.” Then the child turned her head towards the open doorway and shouted, “MAMA! DADDY FELL ASLEEP IN HIS OLD CLOTHES AGAIN!”

Then the child was crawling across the bed and padding towards the open doorway. Rubbing his face clear of sleep, Jaime pulled himself into a sitting position and assessed his surroundings. Clearly he had not fallen asleep in his bed after all; perhaps he had collapsed in some random hovel in Fleabottom in search of his brother. Yet, as he stared around at the chambers he found himself in, Jaime realised he had not seen _any_ like this before. He could not describe it, not even to himself. 

“Jaime,” a familiar voice said, interrupting his thoughts. “You fell asleep in your re-enactment clothes _again_?” 

He turned towards the doorway the child had run through. Standing there was his former captor turned companion. “Lady Brienne.”

She snorted, shaking her head fondly at him. “I have to take Cat to school; we can’t play lords and ladies _now.”_

Lady Brienne approached the bed. She looked…_different _than the last time Jaime had clapped eyes upon her. Still the same height and breadth of body, but her hair was longer. Softer. She wore strange garments, too: a baggy collared tunic with buttons down to the hem; loose-fitting breeches and stockings with a pattern of broadswords stitched into the wool. Grinning, Lady Brienne crawled across his bed and bent her head, pressing her lips to his in a firm kiss. 

“The staff meeting was cancelled; perhaps we could play later, hmm?” She raised a single eyebrow; her lips pulled into a smirk. “Ser?”

Her hands, as gentle as they had been in the tub at Harrenhal, cradled his face as Lady Brienne stole another kiss from his lips. He should stop her; his heart and body had been claimed by another long before Lady Brienne had drawn her first breath. But her lips were so soft, and they tasted of mint from the gardens, and she hummed happily as, just for the briefest of moments, he kissed her back. A fleeting indulgence before he placed both hands atop Lady Brienne’s shoulders and pushed her away. 

“I am…_flattered, _my Lady,” he said, unsure of what else to say. Her appearance still confused him, as did her actions. To say nothing of his surroundings. But the singular truth he knew was that his heart belonged to another. “But I am spoken for, as well you know.”

Lady Brienne reeled back; a crease forming across her brow. “Jaime, this isn’t funny.”

“My Lady—”

“Jaime—”

“Since when did you stop calling me _Ser Jaime_?” he said, his confusion giving way to _frustration; _the unsettled feeling crawling across his bones sparking into anger.He forced himself from the mattress, tossing aside the thick blanket so as he could place his feet upon the…_rug _that covered the entire floor of the room. “It wasn’t so long ago that you called me Kingslayer. I fear the bearpit has made you too familiar, my Lady.” 

“The bearpit…” Lady Brienne trailed off. Her eyes narrowed, taking him in from the temple of his head to his bare toes. Her shoulders tensed; her blue eyes drawing in as if the tide. “Your hair’s longer. I didn’t notice it before, but it _is_ longer. _Blonder. _There are marks on your face, too.” 

“From my year in captivity at the Stark camp, and our time with Locke and his men.” Jaime huffed. “Have you suffered a blow to the head, my Lady? Have you forgotten yourself, our time together on the road?”

Lady Brienne wrapped an arm around her stomach. “_Ser _Jaime, what year do you believe this is?”

He barked out a laugh. “If you are unsure of the date, my Lady, then your memory has suffered more than I suspected. It’s the year 301.”

“It’s 907 AC,” piped a small voice from the doorframe. Jaime turned and saw the small child from earlier. “We have to write the date in school. It’s 907 AC.”

Jaime laughed again, but it sounded weak to his own ears. “You’re mistaken, child. It’s 301; King Joffrey Baratheon is on the throne, and I am his Lord Commander.”

The child faltered, then, and turned to Lady Brienne on the bed. “Mama?”

“Catelyn, I need you to go next door, okay? Tell Walda I need for her to take you to school.”

“Is Daddy okay?”

“He’s _fine; _he’s just tired and I think he’s running a fever. You remember the last time he was sick; he babbled all sorts of nonsense.” Lady Brienne removed herself from the bed, crossed the room to the doorway, and pressed a kiss atop the young girl’s head. “We love you very much, but you need to go to school. Okay?”

“Okay. Bye Mama. Bye Daddy; feel better.” 

As soon as the girl disappeared, Jaime rounded on Lady Brienne. “I am _not _that girl’s father.”

“Oh, I know you’re not. Because my husband would _never _talk to our daughter like that.” Husband? Daughter? “You’re Ser Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin. Knighted at sixteen, elevated to the Kingsguard. Killed Aerys Targaryen, swore an oath to Lady Stark, and died in the Battle of the Long Night in the arms of the woman you love.” Something must have crossed his face because Lady Brienne then laughed. It was harsh. _Bitter. _“Oh, not the one you’re thinking of. See, I know all of this because my husband is the foremost expert on _you_. Because you’re _dead, _and have been for six hundred years.”

“My Lady—”

“I am _not _a Lady. Tarth hasn’t been a functioning nobility for three hundred years. My name is Brienne Tarth, I am a curator at the Targaryen Museum of Ancient History, and my husband Jaime is your descendant. Which begs the question, _where the fuck is my husband_?” 


	100. "Red Carpet" - Jaime and Brienne have a run-in at the Crimson Kingdom Awards (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you: # I really need to write some red carpet jb me: hell yes please give me that here's the prompt in case you need one I definitely need one (or 50)" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a) this taps in really nice with an idea I’ve been toying with, of Brienne playing Jaime’s role in a reboot, b) shout out to @angel-deux-writes, who needed some fic today, and I hope this fits the bill, and c) prompt #99!

“Brienne! Brienne, over here!” 

He’d barely stepped foot upon the red carpet at the Crimson Kingdom awards, but already the vultures had turned their attention towards his replacement. _Brienne Tarth. _Tall, ungainly, a passable actress at _best. _Yet the photographers clamoured for a shot of her, the lead of _Oathkeeper; _nominated tonight for the very first time. The fact that Jaime had not been nominated – also for the very first time – was only part of his frustration. All this attention, all this _fuss, _for a role that was essentially _his. _

“Jaime, Jaime, can you spare a moment to talk to us!”

Melara Hetherspoon, one of the gossip reporters for _Ice and Fire _magazine, thrust both a microphone and a camera in his face. He adjusted the line of his burgundy tuxedo jacket and offered Melara one his charming smiles. As expected, she practically pooled at his feet. 

“So, Jaime,” she said, teeth toying with her pink bottom lip. “Tonight is the first Crimson Kingdom awards you haven’t been nominated for since your very first at sixteen.”

“It is,” he said, with a slight shrug. “The competition grows fiercer every year; just means I have to step up my game.” 

Melara continued to swoon. “Brienne Tarth is nominated for best actress this year for _Oathkeeper, _a reboot of your first major success, _The Dragon King. _Brienne’s character shares many similarities with your original role. Any resentment that a reboot of your character is getting such acclaim, especially after your plans for a reboot fell through?”

If there was an award for best forced smile, Jaime _certainly _would have won it. “No resentment at all. In fact, I wish Brienne Tarth good luck tonight. She’s in a tough category, but hopefully, she’ll come out on top. That is, after all, how she likes it. Lovely to see you, Melara.”

She made to ask another question, but Jaime was already walking away. A few flashes went off in his face; he waved his hand in the direction of a couple of photographers. But his gaze quickly fell back towards Brienne Tarth. She was wearing a dark blue dress that fell across her body; silver stars pinned to her shoulders. Her hair was short, yet she kept fiddling with the blonde strands. Her smile was so innocent; her face completely devoid of guile. Yet Jaime knew her sort. He knew her sort _very _well. 

When a reboot of _The Dragon King _had been floated by Jaime, he’d practically bitten the production team’s hand off. Years of working on obscure but award-worthy films had left him with a full mantle but feeling rather drained. He wanted to do something _fun _again, and he loved the idea of returning to Arthur Westford, the youngest knight ever elevated to the Kingsguard. He’d brainstormed many an idea of a fresh take – of Arthur’s future – until he was told they were going in a different direction. Similar plot: young knight, mentally-ill monarch, intrigue and drama. Only Arthur would now be Alysanne. Only he would be out, and Brienne Tarth would be _in. _

“Brienne! Brienne! Just one more!”

She was flagging. Jaime could see the slight crease in her forehead; the falter of her mouth. _Amateur. _The PR assistant, a redhead who should have been in front of the camera rather than the giant from the Stormlands, noticed it too. She then noticed Jaime. With a speed he had not imagined she would possess, the girl grabbed his arm. 

“Come with me, this will be a great press opportunity!” 

And suddenly Jaime was stood next to Brienne Tarth in front of a television camera, with a microphone thrust at both of them. The journalist grinned at the pair of them, and then into the camera. “Look at this, TV fans: the youngest knights ever sworn into the Kingsguard!” 

Both he and Brienne laughed politely, as if the tension between them wasn’t so thick that not even valyrian steel could cut through it. “Arthur Westford and Alysanne Swann. TV _history _is being made tonight! Is this the first time you both have met?”

“Yes, it is,” Brienne said, fiddling with her hair again. 

“Not for lack of trying.”

“Oh?” The journalist asked. “Does this mean we might get an Arthur Westford cameo on the show?”

Jaime snorted. “Doubtful. I thought I might have been asked, but I was informed no one else can fit in Ms Tarth’s spotlight.” He turned to her, decorum and public opinion out the window. He was a _Lann Award Winner _for fuck’s sake. He wouldn’t prop anyone up, least of all _her. _“I imagine it is hard for anyone else to fit in it.”

Brienne’s facade in front of the cameras faded just as quickly as his. “How _dare _you accuse me of such a thing? You don’t even _know _me.”

“Exactly. No one knows who the fuck you are, but you’ve still got enough clout at the network to cut me out of the project.”

“I have no idea—”

“—oh _please. _This naive little facade might work with studio execs but I’ve been in this business long before you were ever in your first school play, Ms Tarth. I imagine as a tree.”

“Well, I’d rather play a tree than any of the roles you’ve played lately. You looked like you were half asleep in _The Blackwater Connection. _It’s no wonder the producers didn’t want you to have anything to do with the new show.”

“Yes, because—”

“I wish I hadn’t bothered fighting for you.” Her shoulders dropped. “Arthur was my favourite character; you were…” Brienne trailed off. “But you’re just a huge disappointment.”

With the sweep of her dress like a knight’s cloak, Brienne Tarth left to continue her journey down the red carpet. Jaime stood there like the biggest arsehole in all of Westeros. He was now left with two options: either Brienne Tarth was the greatest actress he had ever seen, or she truly had fought for him to be included in the show. 

Either way, he was wrong, and Jaime felt the sudden urge to discover what was _right. _


	101. "301 AC" - Modern Jaime tries to persuade Tyrion he's from the future (Canon/Mod AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Follow up for lost in time jaime!!! I need to know what happens!!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Prompt #100! I hope you enjoy.

“So, do you believe me?”

Jaime turned to Tyrion Lannister, his great-however-many-grandfather, and watched him adopt a polite expression. He laid a hand atop Jaime’s wrist. “I _believe _you’ve suffered a great deal, Brother. Your time in captivity—”

“—really? I’m suffering from PTSD? And, what, made up this story that I’m from six-hundred years in the future to offer myself a little peace of mind?” 

Something which Jaime Lannister, of the year 907 AC, had little of at that very moment. After all, it’s not every day you fell asleep beside your _amazing _wife and then woke up in the Red Keep during one of the most bloody eras in Westerosi history. Once he’d pinched himself and tried and failed to find phone signal, Jaime had just accepted that he was one of those historians who had _gone back in time. _And that if he was going to get back to his girls, he’d need some help. 

Hence Tyrion Lannister, his great-however-many-grandfather, who was being a right _pain in the arse _about this whole ‘from the future’ thing. The easiest way to prove himself would be his phone; technological advancements that wouldn’t even be a daydream for another five hundred years. But Jaime couldn’t risk it breaking; the photos of Brienne and Catelyn were more precious than all the gold a Lannister could ever hoard. 

“Is there any way I can prove what I’m telling you is true? I’ve read all your journals, you know; I know _everything _about your life before and after this point. Things that not even your brother would know.” 

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Very well. Tell me something that you, from the future, would know about my life that my brother couldn’t _possibly _know.”

_Fine. Let’s do this. _“You haven’t, nor will you ever, consummate your marriage to Que—” He coughed, clearing his throat, and trying not to disturb _all _of history with his presence. “—to Sansa Stark.” 

He shrugged. “She’s a child; it’s a fair assumption to make.”

“Her handmaiden is a sex worker you’ve fallen for.”

“Again, a fair assumption to make.” 

Jaime racked his brains, trying to recall Tyrion’s journal. Honestly, he’d always been more fascinated by his great-however-many-uncle, and had studied the passages relating to him more closely than any other. Including the downright creepy relationship he’d had with his sister, which had been part of a four-week lecture series Cat had given on sex, power, and gender during the War of the Five Kings. 

“Your sister’s been banging your cousin.” He wrinkled his nose, just as Tyrion’s mouth dropped open. “You want to tell him, but you’re unsure whether he’ll believe you, and don’t want to make him choose between you and her as you’re not sure who he’ll choose.” 

Tyrion’s face fell. “Yes.” 

“My name is Jaime Lannister. I’m a history lecturer at King’s Landing University, an off-shoot of the Citadel. I’m married, with one daughter, and I don’t know _what _I am doing here but I know I have to get home.” 

Tyrion nodded. “I–I believe you. Please allow me a moment, Jaime. This is rather a lot to process.” 

Jaime gave him a moment. Gave him two, even. He ducked out of Tyrion’s chambers and headed for the balcony, drawing in a deep breath of sea air. The Red Keep would stand for another four years, but would fall in the Second Sack of Kings’s Landing. There would be rebuilding, redevelopment, and in five hundred and ninety-five years, Jaime’s father would set out his plans to build exclusive apartment buildings. 

Brienne would really get a kick out of the fact that their apartment really _was _where the White Sword Tower had stood. _Brienne. _Jaime reached inside the tan jacket he’d taken from his counterpart’s room and found his phone. The screen sprung to life, loaded, and displayed his wife holding their daughter on the beaches of Tarth. An ache settled in Jaime’s bones. She should be here with him. Their love of history had brought them together; she would adore every second of this. 

The door to Tyrion’s chambers opened; Ser Podrick Payne, the future Lord Commander of Queen Sansa’s guard, talked to Tyrion. Jaime took the opportunity to power down his phone and step back inside. 

“My Lord.” 

Jaime grinned. _My Lord. _People only called him that during re-enactments, or when he and Brienne roleplayed in the bedroom. “Podrick, isn’t it?” he said, as if he hadn’t been read Payne’s own accounts by his wife many, _many _times. 

“It is.” 

“Podrick here has been dismissed for the day whilst we take a walk around the gardens. Get my brother some colour. Enjoy yourself, Podrick.” Tyrion pressed three gold dragons into his hand, and the boy quickly scurried off. “Come on.”

It was different walking with the Tyrion of _this _time compared to his own brother. In 907 AC, they were two incredibly attractive, incredibly _wealthy _men. But in this time, eyes quickly darted away. The legacy of the Kingslayer, and no doubt his amputation, made many wary to meet his eye. As they settled themselves on a veranda overlooking the Godswood, Tyrion tugged at his right sleeve. 

“You lost your hand, too.”

“Car accident. About ten years ago.“

“A…car?”

“Fuck.” Jaime exhaled. “It’s a long story. But I nearly died and afterwards I decided to change my life around.” 

Tyrion paused, then said, “And how do we die? Jaime and I? All of us?” 

He was remiss to share too much. How could he explain that his nephews and niece would all perish over the next three years; that Tywin Lannister would die at Tyrion’s own hands? That Cers*i would die in this very castle; Winter finally coming South? And how much would Jaime’s presence _change _all that? Sighing, he answered his first question as best he could. 

“In Casterly Rock, with your wife beside you.” Tyrion’s face grew impossibly soft, and Jaime was reminded of his brother and that ache grew again. “Jaime dies in Winterfell, fighting the dead. He dies in the arms of Brienne of Tarth. With his last breath, he tells her everything he’s ever felt for her. Before the Stranger takes him, she does the same.” 

A flash of blue steals Jaime’s attention, and he looks back out into the gardens to see what could only be the future Ser Brienne of Tarth walking the grounds with a shorter brunette. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. She looked so much like his Brienne_. _Hair was shorter; her build perhaps a little more muscular. But that was his wife standing right there. 

“We always joke that we’re a second chance from the Gods. That they wanted us together so much that they brought us back six hundred years later and pushed us together.” Jaime swallowed. “It always pained me, knowing he was so close to happiness but never got to love her for more than a few minutes.” 

“Jaime—”

“—she does find happiness with her husband; some Stormlands knight. And that’s _enough _and it brought me my wife, but if they could be even half as happy as Brienne and I are…maybe that’s why I’m here. I’m here to bring them together.”

There was more he could do, of course. But he feared the ripple effect it would have on his future. But this he could do. He would always be Tyrion’s great-however-many-grandson. But instead of a Stormlands knight, Brienne’s great-however-many-grandfather would be Ser Jaime Lannister, Goldenhand the Just, himself. Who, if they _had _swapped places, was hopefully playing nice with his wife. 


	102. "Dear Jaime" - Brienne tries to let classmate Jaime down easily, a sequel to '65' (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "could you do a follow-up to teen!jb with the love letter shenanigans, mayhaps? love you're writing" (thapphire-isle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I most certainly can! Prompt #101 here we go: here’s to another 100! A huge thank you to resthefuture who listened to my thoughts on this verse.

_Dear Jaime, _Brienne began, tapping her pencil against her notebook as she struggled for what to say_. _It had been much easier to write that letter to Renly than to write this. So much easier to say _I can’t stop thinking about you _than it was to write _I’ve never thought about you like this. _It was true, though: her affections for Renly, and Jaime’s arrogance, had never made Brienne think about him in that way.

_Oh,_ but then he went and kissed her, and Brienne was struggling to think of anything else. 

Running her thumb along her bottom lip, Brienne closed her eyes and summoned the image of Jaime Lannister. Damp hair falling across emerald eyes; a cocky, warm grin as he stared at her, _pleased _at the puddle he’d reduced her to. It had been her first kiss, a thought she’d struggled to formulate in the muddle that was Jaime receiving Renly’s letter, and the most popular boy in school having feelings for _her. _It was a kiss that should have been Renly’s. A kiss that _would _be Renly’s at some point. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow Jaime Lannister to have any more of her firsts. 

“Brienne! Time for school!”

Cursing the time, Brienne shoved the half-finished letter in her backpack and hustled down the stairs. Her father was waiting in the doorframe; a crease forming across his brow. “Everything alright, Little Star?”

“Not so little any more.”

At over six-foot, Brienne towered over her classmates. And, yet, her father could still drop a kiss atop her head. “Still little to me. You know, you _can _talk to me about things. _Boy _things.”

“DAD!”

Her father’s chuckle followed her out into the car. After a quiet journey listening to the radio, Brienne decided to ask for her father’s advice. “There’s a boy at my school who likes me. _Really _likes me.” Her thumb ran over her bottom lip once again. “But I really like someone else, and this boy—”

“You don’t like him?”

“He’s…good-looking, I guess. But I don’t think he’s a very nice person. How should I tell him?”

“Just tell him the truth, Little Star. You can’t go wrong with the truth.”

_Easier said than done. _Perhaps if Brienne hadn’t told Jaime he could kiss her. Perhaps if she hadn’t kissed him back, and sighed in pleasure as he’d kissed her neck. Perhaps if she had just _told him _then and there that it was Renly’s letter_…_no, she couldn’t fixate on her past mistakes. Just focus on the future, and telling Jaime Lannister that _whatever _this was wouldn’t go any further. 

Her father pulled up in front of King’s Landing Academy. Brienne kissed his cheek and got out ready for another day at school. Waiting at the kerb, however, was Jaime. His hands were teasing the strap of his bag or running through his hair. When he caught sight of her, he broke out into the broadest smile Brienne had ever seen. And her stomach somersaulted again; her thumb touching her lip as if all she could do was think of that kiss. 

“I’ve thought about you all night,” Jaime said as she joined him on the kerb.

“Same,” she said truthfully. “I’m running late; I should get to my locker.”

And then Brienne Tarth turned her back and practically sprinted inside the school. 

A few of her fellow students were still milling in the corridors; the second bell had yet to ring for registration. Brienne glanced towards the lockers on the other side of hers, where Renly’s stood. If only Margaery had put the letter in the _right _one: number 48, instead of number 49. Then she wouldn’t have to explain to Jaime Lannister that she was not, in fact, interested. Nor would she have to suffer the social repercussions of turning him down. She snorted. _Oh, _who was she kidding? Her rejection would barely dent that ego; if anything he’d just laugh it off.

“_Brienne.” _A shadow fell over her locker. She turned; Jaime bypassing his own to stand beside hers. His teeth worried his bottom lip. “Have I done something?”

“No, you haven’t.” _The only thing you’ve done is not be Renly Baratheon. _She pushed her backpack into her locker and took out her pencil case, notepad, and textbooks. Something dropped to the floor, and he bent to pick it up. “Listen, Lannister—”

“_Dear Jaime,” _he said, picking up her attempt at letting him down easy. His green eyes sparkled as he examined the near-blank piece of paper. “Another love letter?”

“Not quite. I was trying to–what I mean is—” Brienne felt like banging her head against her locker. She glanced at Jaime, his expression kinder than she’d thought possible from him. _You can’t go wrong with the truth. _“Jaime.”

His lips pulled up into a smile at the sound of his name, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. “_Brienne.”_

“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.” 

He laughed, and for a moment, Brienne was struck by the notion that this had all been a game, a joke, and it had finally run its course. The peace that enveloped her quickly faded as Jaime stepped even closer and rested his hand along the side of her neck. 

“Why didn’t you say so?”

And then he was kissing her again. His lips were achingly soft, and they tasted sweet like he’d had chocolate cereal for breakfast. Jaime sighed as he deepened their kiss; his hands cradling her jaw. Seven help her, Brienne kissed him back. Closed her eyes and mimicked the motions of his lips and teased the crimson tie around his neck; using it as an anchor for what was essentially her second-ever kiss in the middle of a school corridor. 

_With Jaime Lannister. _

The second bell rang, and he reluctantly pulled away. “Break time, yeah? We’ll meet in the library.” 

“Okay.” 

And then he was gone, and Brienne was the sole student in the corridor. Her head tilted back until it hit metal. Maybe she didn’t need to tell him. Maybe he’d tire of her; of course he would. She’d just have to wait it out, and when Jaime inevitably dumped her, she’d be _fine. _And so what if they kissed a little in the meantime? It was good practice for when she finally told Renly how she felt. 

Her thumb brushed her bottom lip again. 


	103. "Dice" - Billionaire Jaime finds himself entranced with a woman at a casino (Movie Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "JB INDECENT PROPOSAL AU SOUNDS GREAT I NEED IT ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THIS PART "Plot twist: Jaime just wants to wake up beside someone, as he's never had that before." THIS MADE ME EMOTIONAL GO AWAY I SHOULD SLEEP" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically I’m re-starting #follow-up week for tomorrow, which means I can get away with some experimentation of other verses just under the wire. *coughs* Anyway, thank you, and a lovely Anon, for prompting this. I hope you enjoy!

Visiting a casino in Braavos was not exactly Jaime Lannister’s idea of a good time. Before – _before _– he had spent most of his free time either working or sneaking into his stepsister’s penthouse. Now he did neither, and Jaime had readily taken up his brother’s offer of a trip to Braavos to spend money like the Lannisters they were. He’d bought new clothes for the trip, and grew out his beard until the silver showed through. Losing the woman he thought he’d loved – and most of the dexterity in his right hand – had made him a changed man. 

A pity, then, that he still felt like the old one. 

“Oh!” 

The lift down to the casino floor jolted and stopped; a six-foot man with platinum hair bumping into his side. It was only up close that Jaime realised she was a woman. Despite her frame, her touch was gentle, soft, as she righted both of them in the cramped space of the lift. She patted the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, and the Valyrian steel pin he’d bought on a whim. 

“Nice sword,” she said, ducking her head almost immediately. She quickly turned from him as the lift restarted, and engaged in conversation with a dull-looking man on her left. 

As the lift doors opened, she and her plain companion headed for the tables. Jaime paused, following her with his eyes until she disappeared out of sight. He kept his watch until a throat cleared behind him, and Jaime turned to see his brother and the looming figure of his bodyguard. 

“Someone caught your eye?” 

“No,” he said, green eyes darting back towards the path the woman had taken before falling back to Tyrion. “Just assessing my surroundings.” 

His brother’s mouth twitched in amusement; Jaime had never been as adept a liar as he, or their stepsister. But Tyrion let his attempt pass, and the two brothers (plus Bronn) headed onto the casino floor. Tyrion enjoyed a game of poker, and settled himself at a table while Bronn flirted with a waitress. Jaime played a couple of hands of blackjack; his gaze barely on his cards. Instead, he kept glancing at the woman from the lift. 

“What bet?”

The womanand her bland companion were playing the roulette table. “Fourteen.” 

They placed their bet, and the dealer set the wheel. Jaime watched her as the small ball bounced; joy and failure a second away. Her teeth buried themselves in a plump bottom lip; red lipstick coating the ridges. Jaime felt the urge to lick it away. She fiddled with blonde hair, a slight curl to the ends. Her eyes, as blue as oceanwater, lit up as the ball grew close to fourteen, only to dim as it settled in another pocket. Those eyes…a man could happily drown in those eyes. 

“Ser?” The dealer at Jaime’s table turned to him. “Another card?”

He tapped the table twice, uncaring of the original card in play. He was too consumed by the woman and her hands. They were placed upon her partner’s shoulders; her touch soft and reassuring as they lost even more money. When her bland companion yanked himself out of her grip, spitting a curse to the red and black carpet, she toyed with a ring upon her left hand. An engagement ring. _Interesting. _

“Congratulations, Ser, you’ve won.” 

“Consider it a tip,” Jaime said, walking away from the hundreds of gold dragons on the table to follow Blue Eyes and her fiance to a craps table, hoping for luck there. 

The man with barely a face took control of the dice but continued to fail with every roll. Blue Eyes tried to reassure him, and every word was a supportive punch to Jaime’s gut. No one had ever been so gentle with him; his stepsister, for all the years they had been together, had never offered a kind word or a soft touch. And here was this woman, with a man who _clearly _didn’t deserve her, who could offer all that Jaime had ever wanted. 

“Another shooter?”

“I’ll take them,” he said, offering his scarred right hand to take the crimson dice. 

The dealer bowed his head. “Mister Lannister, welcome. It’s an honour and a pleasure for you to join us tonight.” 

A murmur went around the other patrons. Even Blue Eye’s bland fiance lifted his head from his despair, recognising the name of one of the wealthiest men in Westeros. Jaime’s car accident had been on the front pages of a lot of newspapers, too. Most of the other gamblers stared openly at his hand – all except for Blue Eyes, who had been raised well enough not to stare. 

He rattled the dice in his hand before turning to her. “A blow for luck?” 

The bland fiance snorted; Blue Eyes stiffening at his disdain. Yet she bent her head; her breath warm on his fingertips as she blew on his dice. Her bottom lip faltered as she raised her head; her blue eyes locked onto his before immediately shifting away. Her companion placed a contrary bet to Jaime’s own; his second mistake next to mistreating the singular creature beside him. Jaime’s dice roll, accompanied by Blue Eyes’ luck, produced a win around the table for everyone but him. 

Her companion smacked the table. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

He made to leave; Blue Eyes to follow. Jaime called after her. “Would you mind if you stayed? For luck. We’ll split the winnings.”

His name, his face, his wealth could buy many things. As Blue Eyes remained beside him at the table, Jaime realised that for once, he’d actually use it to get what he wanted. _Her. _


	104. "Concubine" - Jaime pretends to be Queen Brienne's lover in order to advise her (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "#can i also suggest Queen Brienne and kingslayer-slash-concubine jaime? #no one trusts him so she can't give him a position but he's pretty af so no one turns a blind eye if tywin's heir is fucked on the regular do you need someone to prompt you this? cause I need you to give me more than those 2 tags" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! I’m getting these new prompts in under the wire before #follow-up week take II begins. Hope you enjoy!

A heavy fist banged upon Jaime’s door. “Kingslayer! The Queen has summoned you.” 

Setting aside Tyrion’s latest letter, Jaime rose from his chair and opened the door to his chambers. Ser Jon, Jaime’s least favourite member of Brienne’s Queensguard, stood outside. His nostrils flared as his eyes set upon Ser Jaime Lannister, former brother now royal concubine. “Tell me, Ser Jon, do you enjoy standing outside whilst I fuck your Queen?”

“_Come on.”_

A rough hand forced his shoulder forward. As they turned a corner, they were joined by Ser Olyvar. He didn’t look best pleased to see Ser Jaime either. “Another summons?” 

“What can I say?” Jaime said, interrupting Ser Jon’s snide response. “I seem to have _endeared _myself to our new Queen.” 

Both men scoffed, yet they continued escorting Jaime to the Queen’s bedchambers. As they grew nearer, Ser Olyvar glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. “If it was me, I’d have hung you from the neck, Kingslayer. Run you through with a sword like you did Aerys Targaryen. I don’t know why the Queen keeps you around.”

“Because I have a pretty face,” Jaime said, grinning lasciviously at the two men. “And a rather lovely cock.” 

No more words were exchanged between them as Jaime was led to Brienne’s chambers. Ser Harry stood at the door; he knocked twice upon their approach. “Your Grace, Ser Jaime Lannister for you.” 

The door swung open. Queen Brienne of Tarth, first of her name, stood framed by the last rays of the day’s light; her blonde hair a golden crown atop her head, her eyes as blue as the sapphires embedded in her sword. Chin thrust forward, she appraised him as one would a horse at market. Clicking her tongue, she beckoned him inside. 

“Take off your clothes, Kingslayer.” She then turned to her three guards. “I’m not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

Brienne stole away into her chambers. Jaime began removing his clothes before the door was even halfway shut; his tunic shucked and tossed into a corner. He ran a hand along the firm plains of his stomach, winking at Ser Jon, before he began plucking at the laces of his breeches. The three guards were given a glimpse of his golden cock before they quickly shut the door. Jaime laughed and ran a hand through his mane. He did love torturing them so. Made the tedium of his day worthwhile.

On the other side of her chambers, Brienne was pouring them both a goblet of wine. She turned to address him, only to choke on her tongue. “What are you _doing_?” she hissed; a fine pink flush covering her cheeks. 

“My Queen told me to remove my clothes.” 

Brienne tossed a pillow at him. “_Ugh. _I should never have agreed to this.”

Jaime chuckled as he covered his cock with the embroidered cushion. “_Yes, _but you did, and now we’re too far down this path to go back.” He conceded and grabbed his breeches before he joined Brienne at her table. He left them unlaced; quick to remove if anyone entered unexpectedly. “How was the Small Council meeting today?” 

“Short. A presentation of my options for a husband.” Brienne sighed and sunk into her chair. “They aren’t telling me what’s truly going on, Jaime. They think I don’t see it, but I do.” 

“Of course you do. You’re a lot smarter than they realise. Tell me what happened; we’ll find a solution.” 

If there was indeed a shadow Small Council operating in the capital outside the view of the Queen, then Ser Jaime Lannister was the shadow Hand, operating half-naked within the Queen’s bedchambers. In another life, perhaps he would be her right hand instead of her whore. But a wound from the Trident had rendered the Queen bedridden in the days following her ascension, and her weakness had allowed more rot to set in. Jaime had been spared the noose at Brienne’s insistence, but her reach could only stretch so far. It became clearer with every passing day that Brienne’s Targaryen ancestry was all that held her on the throne. As soon as she gave birth to a healthy boy, Jaime truly feared she would be removed, and a council of regents all grasping for power would take her place. 

He was no longer a Kingsguard; he had made no vows to Brienne. But she had held him when he spoke the truth, a truth no one else had believed. And he had encouraged her to take the throne, encouragement no one else championed. Being her whore was the only way he could stay in the capital. Tywin Lannister was no longer in favour and, despite the moral purity the court expected, most of the nobility relished the idea of Tywin’s son and heir being fucked for the Queen’s pleasure. 

If only they knew what _really _happened when she summoned him. “Renly is probably your most likely option,” Jaime explained after Brienne had finished her update. “Robert’s brother, and young enough to be moulded by the lords.” 

“He’s not…_unpleasant,_” Brienne said; again; a pink hue coating the apples of her cheeks. “There could be worse husbands.” 

“Agreed. And Renly won’t condemn you for bedding me, as I’m sure he’s bedded many a young man in his time, too.” Brienne’s eyebrows rose. “He’s a better option, but I still think you should hold out. Bide our time, build your power, and then you can marry for love.”

Brienne scoffed. “Women like me don’t marry for love, Jaime.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “You are the Queen, Brienne. You of all should marry for love. And, with my help, you will.” 


	105. "9am" - Mature student Jaime attends Doctor Tarth's history lecture (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can we get mature student Jaime???" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You totally can! Hope you enjoy.

The last time Jaime had been on a university campus, he had been twenty-one and was graduating with a degree in business. A formality, as his role as CEO of Lannister Holdings had been guaranteed from birth. Unlike his brother, Jaime had never enjoyed the fruits of living off-campus. He had stayed and studied at Casterly Rock; he had worked hard as was expected of a Lannister. But his car accident six months ago had changed, well, _everything. _He had wanted a new life, a life that _he _deemed worthy. 

Which was what brought him to Winterfell University at forty to study History. 

Weaving in and out of students, Jaime navigated his way through the Nymeria building to his first class. Most of his classmates were a good twenty years his junior, coming to lectures in jogging bottoms, t-shirts, and a handful even in pyjamas. Jaime’s concession from years of wearing five hundred dragon suits was a black long-sleeved jumper and tailored jeans. But with the salt and pepper in his beard and the wrinkles around his eyes, he still looked out of place. 

Eventually, he found what he _thought _was his lecture hall. A few students had already taken their seats, and a young woman was standing by the front row flicking through a textbook. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” She raised her head, and his first thought was _Gods, her eyes. _They really were the most striking blue, and were the most beautiful thing on a rather plain face. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for Doctor Tarth’s lecture?”

“Well, you’ve found it! I’m Doctor Tarth. And you are?” 

“Jaime Lannister.” He frowned as he shook her offered hand. “Aren’t you a little _young _to be a lecturer?” 

Her grip tightened. “I have a PhD and all the relevant qualifications.”

“I know, but…” He had hoped, with the price of tuition and the status of Winterfell, that he would be taught by someone at least his age, if not older. “You’re practically a _child.” _

She dropped his hand; Doctor Tarth’s arms crossing in front of her chest. “I’m twenty-six, Mister Lannister. And I am more than capable of teaching this class.” She paused; a muscle twitching in her cheek. “I’m sorry, which department are you with again?”

“I’m not. I’m one of your new undergrads.” 

“Aren’t you a little _old _to be an undergraduate?” 

Jaime smirked. “Just means I have more experience to bring to the table. Afraid I know more about this topic than you, Doctor Tarth?”

“I’m sure you have much first-hand knowledge from Ancient Westeros, Mister Lannister.” 

Before he could offer a retort, a gaggle of his new classmates entered. Offering one last smirk in his lecturer’s direction, Jaime took one of the seats up front – in fact, was the only one to do so, bar a moon-faced eighteen-year-old. Jaime made introductions (Podrick Payne, apparently, from Ashemark) before he turned to the front of the class and Doctor Tarth. He swallowed. _Fuck. _He hadn’t noticed her legs before. Long and shapely; for a brief moment, Jaime imagined those wrapped around him. 

Then Doctor Tarth began to speak, and his momentary fantasy came to an end. “Good morning. My name is Doctor Brienne Tarth, and this is ‘Knighthood in Ancient Westeros’. In front of you is a copy of the module handbook.” Jaime picked his up. “Over the course of the module, you will be assessed through an oral presentation, a multiple-choice test, and two written assignments of various lengths. Any questions?”

No one raised their hands.

“On this module, we will discuss the vows of knighthood, the early knights of the realm, various tournaments, and the Kingsguard.” She paused. “We will also discuss the Kingslayer and his role in the death of Aerys Targaryen, as well as the first female knight of Westeros and her legacy.” Another pause. “Today, we’ll go through the handbook, and we can discuss what will be expected of you, and any possible issues you may have. Any questions?” 

Jaime raised his hand. Doctor Tarth smiled thinly as she addressed him. “Yes?”

“Yeah, I was just wondering if we could change the time of this lecture. 9am on a Monday doesn’t really suit me.”

Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “This lecture is scheduled for Monday 9am, and Thursday 4pm. If you are unable to attend these lectures, Mister Lannister, then please feel free to contact the administration department, and you can swap to another undergraduate module.” 

He leaned back in his chair; a slow smile forming over his face. “No, _no, _I think I’ll stick it out. Just have to get used to it.”

“_Fine. _Now, are there any more questions?”

Despite being barely old enough to drink, Doctor Tarth handled any questions about university practice and the module itself with relative grace. The two-hour introductory lecture flew by, and soon enough she was assigning them two chapters of reading to be completed by the following Thursday. Just as they began to pack up and leave, she gave them one last piece of information. 

“Some of you have me as your personal tutor. Email me, or wait and have a word, and we can discuss a time during office hours where we can have a chat. Thank you, everyone; I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

Jaime retrieved his top-of-the-line phone from his jeans pocket and scrawled through to the email giving him the name of his personal tutor. _Doctor B Tarth. _Grinning to himself, he waited behind Podrick for his own one-on-one moment with the good lecturer. 

After Podrick headed out, Brienne turned to him; her smile faltering. “Mister Lannister. Can I help you with something?”

“You can. It seems you’re my personal tutor; can we arrange a meeting during office hours so we can have a ‘chat’?” He grinned. “An early meeting, of course. It’ll be a school night, after all.”

“And we wouldn’t want to interrupt your early bird dinner.” Doctor Tarth scribbled her office hours on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. “Good day, Mister Lannister.” 

“And to you, Doctor Tarth. I have a feeling I’m going to be using your office hours a great deal.”

Doctor Tarth’s mouth twisted into a scowl, and Jaime just smirked. Despite staying in university accommodation, with little money to his name, he was going to _really _enjoy being a mature student. 


	106. "Blind Item" - Brienne discovers romantic speculation about her and her co-star, Jaime (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "actor au; someone writes a blind item about co-stars brienne and jaime??" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Anon, you TOTALLY can get this. I hope you enjoy.

> **Margaery:** B!! U HAVE to read this; it is TOTALLY bout u and Jaime *wink emoji*

Reading her co-star and friend’s text, Brienne rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. Ever since the series one wrap party, Margaery had been _sure _something was going on between Brienne and their co-star, the award-winning and _infuriating _Jaime Lannister. She had tried, on numerous occasions, to explain that what she and Jaime had was nothing more than grudging respect. Apparently, the recent awards season had reignited Margaery’s _ridiculous _supposition.

Brienne still clinked the link in the message, not sure what meme or real-life story was supposed to be her and Jaime. Instead, she was taken to a website called _Little Birds. _It was a gossip site full of blind items. 

> **This golden star of stage and screen avoided the after-parties at last night’s ‘Crimson Kingdom’ awards, instead opting to have a tender, nay romantic, moment with his statuesque co-star in their hotel bar. **

“Oh, _fuck.”_

Most of these blind items were pure fabrication; stretching a hint of truth into something grotesque, and the lack of names protecting the writers from any libel suits. But this was undoubtedly true. Jaime _had _avoided the after-parties, instead offering to escort her back to her hotel. She’d kept up a brave face for the cameras, but losing had knocked her confidence dramatically. Jaime had seen through her thin facade and, with a gentle hand to the small of her back, had led her to the quiet of their hotel where they could talk. 

Teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, Brienne did what her publicist had told her _never _to do: she read the comments. On the plus side, not many people believed the truth. 

> _Gotta be Jaime Lannister. But which co-star?? Margaery is only five-six._

> DEFINITELY the golden lion himself, JAIME LANNISTER! But his ‘statuesque co-star’…do they mean Brienne THE BEAUTY? hahaha

> I think it’s Drogo… . has he done some stage work?

> This is TOTALLY JL and BT; their chemistry on Oathkeeper is INSANE

Out of the twenty-three comments underneath the blind item, only three even considered the possibility that it was Brienne in the hotel bar. She should be breathing a sigh of relief. After all, she _loathed _gossip about her personal life, and she highly doubted Jaime would enjoy being romantically linked to _her. _Margaery was a different story: she was pretty and petite and belonged in front of the camera. Brienne was large and plain, and her hiring as the lead of _Oathkeeper _had been a risk that had _not _paid off, as she had lamented to Jaime the previous night. 

_“They’ll sack me now.” _

_Jaime laughed around the rim of his glass, only pausing when he saw the look upon her face. “Oh. I thought you were joking. Brienne, the producers aren’t going to give you the boot just because you didn’t win at the Crimson Kingdoms. The fact that you were nominated at _all_ is a huge boon to the show.”_

_“I know, but—”_

_“No buts.” He set his glass upon the table and reached over to take her hand; his thumb brushing the inside of her wrist. “You are an exceptional actor, Brienne Tarth. Alysanne is an incredible character, and you bring her to life so well. Your time will come; you just need to make them see how amazing you are.”_

_She felt her cheeks warm under the power of his compliments; the slight stroke of his thumb against her skin. Brienne ducked her head; her other arm shooting out to reach for her glass and the water within. She took a few gulps, all the while Jaime Lannister still held her hand. _

_“And, I’ve never won a Crimson Kingdom either. And if _I’ve_ never won a—”_

_“—alright, alright, I get it. I’ll stop mentally packing up my trailer.”_

_“Good.” Jaime finally released her hand to take a drink; she felt the loss as keenly as if she had been doused in cold water. “And, just so you know, if they’d sacked you, I’d have threatened to walk as well.”_

_“You would _not.”

_“You underestimate my integrity.”_

_“Underestimate your desire to annoy the producers, you mean.”_

_Jaime barked out a laugh. “Underestimate how much I enjoy working with you, _you mean.” _His green eyes sparkled across from her. “And I do, Brienne. I know we didn’t get off to the best start—”_

_“—you accused me of stealing your part—”_

_“—well, this is a reboot of the show that made me famous. And you blamed me for the cancellation of that show_.”

_A lot of people had. Selling photographs to the tabloids about your co-star and causing an entire production to be shut down had left a stain that was difficult to remove. But the more she had grown to know Jaime, the more she had realised that all the speculation as to _why _he’d done it just felt off. There was more to his story, and Brienne hoped one day he trusted her enough to tell her. _

_“Anyway, I just wanted to say I’ve enjoyed working with you, and I’m looking forward to series two.”_

_Brienne beamed. “Me too.” _

_She held out her drink for a toast, and Jaime clinked his glass against hers. Then he paused, stared, and reached out his arm so his fingertips brushed her cheek. Her body seemed to stop as he touched the blotchy flush covering her face; his touch light, almost reverent. Suddenly he was closer, too; his perfectly white teeth pressed against his bottom lip. _

_“Eyelash.”_

Thankfully, the bartender had announced last orders at that point, before Brienne did something _utterly _stupid, like fall in love with her beautiful co-star and make a fool of herself by reading too much into his behaviour. Perhaps it was necessary to put some distance between her and Jaime. Not just because of the blind item. The fluttering in her stomach every time he smiled at her was reason enough on its own. 

There was a light rap on her hotel room door. _Jaime. _They’d made plans to check out the hotel gym first thing that morning while everyone was sleeping off their hangovers. Reluctantly, Brienne got to her feet and opened up. He looked impossibly good in gym shorts and a sleeveless shirt; his biceps firm and inviting. _Fuck. _

“You ready to go?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, how long do you—”

She raised a hand to cut him off. “Jaime, I don’t think we should spend time together outside of work.” 

He blinked, shoulders sagging. Then he bobbed his head. “You saw the blind item.”

“Its ridiculous, I know, but that sort of speculation doesn’t help careers. At least not—”

“—yours. Right.” Jaime laughed; it sounded hollow compared to the warm chuckle of last night. “Being seen in public with the man who single-handedly ruined production of _The Dragon King _and the career of a Lann award winner…_yeah, _I imagine that wouldn’t help your career. Message received, Brienne.”

“Jaime, that’s not it at all.” 

“No? When we first started, you didn’t want to work with me at all. But I thought we’d grown closer, I thought we were…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep things on set. If you can even stomach being in front of the camera with me.” 

Jaime moved quickly down the hallway and out of sight. Brienne wanted to go after him; to explain herself in some way that did _not _involve revealing that she was starting to develop feelings for her co-star. But she didn’t. Maybe it was better this way. Best to ruin things now before she fell even harder and hurt them both even more. At least, that was what she told herself. 


	107. "Victory" - Brienne has a charged moment with her husband post melee, sequel to '56' (Canon AU - NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For a prompt, would you consider writing another installment of your Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU, where they're each fighting each other at tourneys and don't know it?" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I most surely can! I hope you enjoy, Anon. Just an FYI, this does become NSFW.

Lady Lannister, the former Maid of Tarth, entered the small inn she and her husband were residing in while he conducted some business at Silverhill. The innkeeper simply nodded at her arrival: he did not stare, or laugh, or make some comment as to the nature of her height or the failings of her face. She was a lioness, now, and lions bit back. It was one of the few joys of her current situation. 

“Lady Lannister,” he greeted. “Pleasant business?”

“Very.” The tournament at Silverhill was small, but she’d earned every single one of those five hundred gold dragons. “Would it be possible to have a bath brought to my room?”

“Of course, my Lady.” 

Brienne pressed five gold dragons into his hand in thanks, and another to the servant who brought the tub. She undressed quickly and sunk into the steaming water. Her muscles ached; a fresh bruise blooming across her shoulder. But it had been worth it, for the thrill of victory if not the winnings themselves. She had no need for money, of course; the House she had married into was the wealthiest in the kingdoms. But it wasn’t _her_ money. Nothing about her new life was hers: not her dresses, not her books, not even her husband.

Just her armour and the sword she kept hidden in her trunk. 

She had just begun to scrub herself with a cloth and a bar of lye soap when the doors to her room opened. Her husband entered with no invitation; a scowl etched into the thin line of his mouth. He faltered, briefly, when he saw her in the tub. Brienne sunk beneath the waterline, as if he had not seen her breasts and more besides. 

Her husband, the Kingslayer, _laughed. _“My Lady. Did you enjoy your visit with Lady—”

“—Stafford, my Lord, and yes, I did.” There was no House Stafford, but she had guessed correctly that the Lannisters did not concern themselves with minor houses from the Stormlands. It was a simple enough deception to allow her to compete. “And you, my Lord? Was your business successful?”

“_No,” _he huffed, reaching for the decanter of wine and pouring himself a goblet. “No, it was not.” 

Ser Jaime was an inexperienced Lord; he knew little of how to run a household, let alone a kingdom. Brienne helped where she could, as she had been trained to run Tarth since the day she could walk. But she feared providing unsolicited advice. Although both their fathers had been desperate for a match, Brienne was under no illusions she would be set aside if Tywin Lannister believed her to be an unworthy wife. Brienne knew her place. So Ser Jaime would struggle, and she would take advantage of his distraction to do something for _her_. 

While her husband ruminated in the corner, Brienne continued scrubbing herself clean of the mud and grime from the melee field. She only stopped when she felt her husband’s fingertips brush her shoulder; his calloused palm pressing against the length of her neck. 

“There are worse things to return to than my wife all _wet.” _

Brienne shivered; a flash of arousal running through. “Are there, my Lord?”

“Come to bed, wife.” 

She felt the absence of Jaime’s touch immediately. Brienne cast a glance over her shoulder to see her husband stripping himself of coat and tunic. After the awkwardness of their wedding night, they had become quite adept at this act. In fact, it was the only aspect of their marriage where they seemed in sync. Brienne rose to her feet, towelled herself dry, and joined her husband by the bed. Cock straining the front of his breeches, his hand clasped the back of her neck and reeled her in for a bruising kiss. 

Brienne had heard the maids whisper about Ser Jaime’s business; his trips outside Casterly Rock and away from his wife. They whispered about the brothels he visited, the whores he fucked. The highborn maidens he seduced. Brienne would have thought them all true had Jaime, more often than not, returned from his business with a hunger only fucking his wife could satisfy. She understood that need: after a victory – especially after a defeat – the adrenalin still pulsed through her system needing a release. 

“_Brienne.” _Jaime gasped against her mouth; the only time he would ever say her name was when they were in bed. He whined as she palmed his cock through the material of his breeches. “I want—”

“—I know.” It was satisfaction her husband craved rather than _her, _but for being an oathbreaker, Brienne could not claim he had broken the vows he’d made to her on their wedding day. “I want, too.” 

He grinned; teeth toying with his bottom lip. “Lie on the bed.” 

“No.” 

He raised a single eyebrow. “No?”

Emboldened by her win on the tourney field, Brienne shook her head. Just for tonight, she would have more than what she was given. She would _take _what she wanted. “No.” Her palms pressed against her husband’s chest and pushed him against the mattress. “_You_ lie on the bed.” 

Jaime swallowed but did as he was bid. Grinning, Brienne unlaced his breeches and eased the material from his long, muscular legs. Tossing the breeches aside, she crawled over her husband until she was straddling his thighs. Her hands brushed his arms, a tender bruise on his bicep, before encircling his wrists. Brienne pinned them above his head, like she had to Goldensword, another mystery knight, only hours before. She held her husband in place while she lowered herself onto his cock.

“_Fuck.”_

Her husband swore, and moaned her name as she rocked against him; occasionally lifting herself up only to bring herself down even harder. Jaime remained pinned in place so Brienne could take her pleasure from him; her husband’s eyes wide and hazy, his mouth open and a litany of groans falling from his lips. He tried to match her stroke for stroke; thrusting his hips upward as she rode him. Eventually, pleasure overwhelmed Brienne; her husband spilling inside her soon after. 

Releasing her grip on Jaime’s wrists, Brienne collapsed to the sheets beside her husband. Silence quickly resumed. It was to be expected. After all, other than the act of fucking, what exactly did they share? 


	108. "Meeting" - First time director Brienne meets with her new lead actor...who is also her boyfriend. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "omg please continue facade, it sounds so good" (anonymous)
> 
> For reference, this was facade:   
Actor Jaime Lannister is well known for being incredibly talented, incredibly difficult to work with, and incredibly elusive about his personal life. Brienne Tarth is known for her short films and television work, and is reserved both on and off-camera. When Brienne is hired to direct Jaime’s new blockbuster, the press and public assume two things: one, that Tarth and Lannister will come to blows, and two, Margaery Tyrell, Jaime’s co-star, will get her claws into him. 
> 
> What no one knows, however, is that Brienne and Jaime have been quietly dating since meeting at a cinema in Storm’s End ten years before. Most of their relationship is long-distance, so the opportunity to work together is too enticing to turn down. They have to keep their relationship quiet, which is why Margaery has no qualms about flirting with Jaime, and Brienne’s stunt director Tormund keeps making moves. But there are a few who notice the chemistry between Jaime and Brienne, and keep pushing them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! First prompt post-HHH, and the first of the weekend!

Brienne paid the taxi driver and stepped out onto the pavement in front of _The Circle; _the hotspot in King’s Landing where all the movers and shakers had lunch. And today, she would be one of them. Getting out of another cab just a few feet away was Catelyn Stark, head of _She-Wolf Films. _She caught Brienne’s eye and waved, before joining her in front of the restaurant. 

“You found it all right?” Brienne nodded. “Good. Now, would you like to meet the star of the multi-million dragon blockbuster you’ll be directing?” 

“I—” Brienne didn’t know what to say. All of this was happening so fast. She’d been directing a mini-series in Braavos when Catelyn had called and offered Brienne her first feature-film debut, and now she was to meet her lead. It was all rather overwhelming. But she drew in a breath, exhaled, and grinned. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Good.”

Together they walked inside _The Circle _and was immediately greeted by the maître d’. As they were led to their table, Brienne sent a discreet text to her boyfriend. 

> _About to meet my lead; wish me luck! _

Brienne didn’t expect a response; he had an important meeting of his own today. So she tucked her phone back into her pocket and kept pace with Catelyn as they walked past directors, actors, producers. Their table was a booth hidden in an alcove of the restaurant; no doubt, whoever was her lead, they were someone _very _important. 

“I’ll warn you: he’s arrogant, rude, and can be downright childish,” Catelyn explained as they approached. “But he’s also one of the greatest actors of our time, and he loves the source material.” They finally came in sight of the table. The man behind it rose. “Brienne, this is Jaime Lannister. Jaime, this is Brienne Tarth.” 

Jaime Lannister was her lead. Jaime Lannister: Lann, Empire, and Crimson Kingdom award winner. Voted _Ice and Fire _magazine’s sexiest man five years in a row. Jaime Lannister. _Her boyfriend_. 

“I thought _The Golden Lion _was to have a female director,” her boyfriend said as he clasped her hand. “My mistake.”

“You’re certainly mistaken,” Brienne hissed, squeezing Jaime’s proffered hand. He barely flinched.

Beside her, Catelyn shook her head. “Behave yourself, Jaime. Brienne is a rising star behind the camera, and knows the source material almost as well as you do.” 

“Perhaps even better,” Brienne offered as she took her seat. 

“We’ll have to see about that, Ms–I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name. Bryen was it?”

She sucked in a breath and pulled her lips into a thin smile. “Brienne. Tarth.”

“Ah, that’s it.” He leaned back in the leather booth; his thumb brushing the condensation of his glass. “Well, Ms Tarth, Cat seems to think you’re the perfect director for this film of ours. Tell me, in fifty words or less, why that is.”

“I’m–I’m sorry?” she spluttered. “What are you—”

“_Jaime.” _Catelyn’s voice cut across the table. “Brienne has already signed a contract; as have you. There is no need for her to justify herself to you, or to anyone.” Her phone vibrated. “I have to take this. Behave yourself.”

“Why were you only looking at me when you said that?” 

She sighed. “Do I _really _need to answer that?” 

And then Catelyn extricated herself from the booth, leaving Jaime and Brienne alone. They hadn’t been alone together for two months; not since Jaime had visited the set of the mini-series and had lived in her hotel room for three days ordering room service and fucking her silly. The tabloids had speculated he was secretly visiting Taena Merryweather, who was shooting a spy thriller in the same city. No one would have expected the up-and-coming director from Tarth. 

Nor would they now, as Brienne kicked Jaime in the shins. “What _was _that?” she hissed. 

“I’m sorry; I am _so _sorry,” Jaime said, reaching over to take her hand underneath the table. “But I didn’t know what to do when I saw you standing there. Well, _I did, _but I didn’t think you’d approve of me kissing you in front of Catelyn Stark.”

“Good instincts.”

“So, I went with a time-honoured role: arsehole Jaime who makes directors want to slap him.” He grinned: the smile that had stolen hearts across the Seven Kingdoms…and, as reluctant as Brienne was to admit it, hers as well. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Well, I can’t believe _you’re _here. I thought you were in Lannisport.”

“Surprise?” he said with a shrug, laughing softly. “I wanted to surprise you tonight. You’d come back from your business meeting with your first feature-film all lined up. There would be expensive takeaway, the finest bottle of champagne, and I was going to wear gold boxers and nothing else.”

Brienne laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“It’s one of the reasons.” Underneath the table, Jaime drew a heart on the inside of her wrist. "So, before Catelyn comes back, we should talk. We’ve _never _worked together. Not in—”

“—ten years,” Jaime helpfully supplied, grinning across the table at her. “Isn’t it about time we did? Just think of it: nine months in the same place, and that’s not even taking into account post-production, the premiere, the press junkets.”

Brienne’s teeth teased her bottom lip. Truly, she shouldn’t even need to think about it: she loved Jaime; hated that their work kept them apart. But she also knew the spotlight and speculation that came with being Westeros’ highest-paid film star. They had been clever and careful over the last decade; no one but his brother and her father knew the truth. This could change everything.

“Would–would we tell people about us?”

“Maybe not this side of the production. I want all the focus to be on your feature-film debut, and not the actor you seduced into your bed.” Another kick to his shins. Jaime grabbed her foot this time. “No, _seriously, _if you want to tell people, that’s okay. Nothing will change for me other than I can finally give up my giant sunglasses and trenchcoat whenever I sneak into your flat or hotel room. It’s your call: I’ll support it, no matter what.” 

Brienne took a moment to think. “Definitely not before the production. But…_maybe _after. They’ll think we fell in love on set. Probably a better story than how it actually happened.”

“What are you talking about? I love how we met. You dobbed me in for sneaking in snacks to the cinema.”

Brienne snorted. “_You _took my assigned seat.” 

“And you sat on me until I asked you out to dinner.” 

“The usher made you move.”

“I asked you out to dinner first.” Another heart against her skin. “So, it’s agreed: we’ll work together, we’ll keep things quiet until after the film is finished, and then we’ll talk about coming out as a couple.”

Brienne nodded. For a moment, with Jaime’s eyes soft and his smile sweet, Brienne thought he would reach across the booth and kiss her; the first one they would have shared in two months. But then Catelyn returned, and he resumed his position of cool indifference. A few barbs were shot across the table in between forkfuls of food, but later Jaime apologised for each one as he kissed her reverently.

_Yes, _she thought as he mumbled apologies between her thighs, _I can work with this. _


	109. "Impossible Crushes" - Brienne tries, and fails, to avoid Coach Jaime. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi, firstly I wanted to thank you for your amazing work you share with us! I absolutely adore Coach Jaime, so if you are still taking prompts, this would make me happy! Have a great day" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are so welcome! I absolutely adore filling prompts; I’m so glad people are enjoying them. 
> 
> The first part is number 42 in the collection. Happy reading :)

Two light raps on her doorframe. Brienne looked up from the marketing proposals for Evenfall Hall and found Sansa loitering in the doorway. “Everything alright, Sansa?” 

“It’s gone midday.” _Fuck. _Brienne hadn’t planned to spend this long in the office. “Can we have lunch now?”

“Soon, Sansa.” She reached for her phone and saw a message from her father. “Arya and my Dad are on their way back from practice. As soon as they get in the door, we’ll make lunch. _Anything you want.”_

Sansa beamed before leaving Brienne to finish the last of her work. She took a long dreg of cold coffee and leant back in her desk chair, staring at the social media plans to boost Evenfall Hall and Museum. Between work, the girls, and her father’s most recent health scare, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had five minutes to just _sit _and do _nothing. _

As the front door opened, and the sounds of thirteen children echoed through the house, Brienne realised that it wasn’t this moment. 

Sighing, she picked herself up, locked her office, and wandered into the kitchen. The thirteen members of Evenfall Primary’s football team stood around the kitchen island, arguing about what they wanted for lunch. Some wanted fish finger sandwiches; others wanted ham and cheese. Her two charges stood by the refrigerator; Sansa with her hand on her hips, looking painfully like her mother, as she argued with Arya that _she _had been put in charge of lunch.

“Brienne!”

“Sansa gets to decide,” she said, firmly, noting Arya’s scowl but not rising to it. “What shall we have, Sansa?”

“Selwyn and I made fresh tartare sauce yesterday. Fish finger sandwiches it is!”

Despite it being one of Arya’s favourites, the scowl did not lift. Brienne got the grill ready whilst the girls and Arya’s teammates began making their way through two loaves of bread. Just as she stuck the fish fingers under the grill, her father appeared in the kitchen carrying an armful of clothes. Brienne raised a single eyebrow at the invasion. 

“Arya wanted them to come round for lunch,” her father explained; his inability to say no to either of his honourary granddaughters really needing none. “We didn’t disturb you, did we, Little Star?”

“No, Dad, it’s fine. I needed a break anyway.” Grabbing the tongs, she turned the fish fingers. “What are the clothes for?”

“Coach Jaime.” She froze. “Lost his footing in a puddle. I told him he could come back with us for some lunch and a change of clothes. Why don’t you pop upstairs and give these to him?” 

“Dad—”

“I don’t understand why you don’t like the man,” he said, keeping his voice low for the sake of the children. “He’s a good lad; likes his football and Arya worships him.”

Brienne faltered, unsure how to explain to her father that she didn’t _not _like Coach Jaime. But between the way Arya spoke of him and his _incredibly _handsome face and physique, Brienne could quite see herself developing a painful, unrequited crush. She didn’t have time for awkward encounters, and wouldn’t want to prejudice Jaime against Arya if she ever made Coach Jaime uncomfortable. So, Brienne had taken to avoiding practices, which had worked very well until her father had invited him _home. _

“It’s…complicated, Dad.”

“Well, Little Star, let me make it simple.” He took the tongs out of her hand and placed the bundle of clothes into her arms. “Go upstairs and give Coach Jaime his clothes.”

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but her father had already stepped in front of the grill and was dishing out fish fingers to eager young football players. Huffing, Brienne took the clothes and stomped up the stairs. She imagined her father had let Coach Jaime into his room to change, but she didn’t see him. For a horrifying moment, Brienne wondered whether he had gone into _her _bedroom, but it was thankfully empty. 

And then the bathroom door opened, and the Warrior in nothing but a low hanging towel appeared. “I thought I heard someone.” 

“Coach,” Brienne managed to stammer out; her gaze drifting over his toned physique, warm and wet from the shower. He ran a hand through dark-blonde hair and smiled. Brienne gulped. “Dad said you needed a change of clothes?”

“Yeah, I misjudged a puddle and embarrassed myself in front of thirteen seven-year-olds.” His hand rested upon the towel; his wrist perpendicular to the vee leading to his—_fuck. _Brienne’s eyes shot back up to his. He grinned. “Thank you for letting me use your shower. Should I take those from you?” 

“Oh, yes!” 

She shoved the clothes against his chest, and, for a single moment, they were closer than they had any right to be. Brienne could see the drops of water clinging to his throat, his lips. She could feel the warmth of his skin and see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. If she was like the other parents – the petite, _pretty _parents – she might be tempted to try her luck with the sexy coach in nothing but a Myrish cotton towel. But Brienne was _Brienne, _and she took a step back almost immediately. 

“I’ll let you get changed, Coach.”

“Sure. Thanks for these.” 

With a crease across his brow, Coach Jaime disappeared into the bathroom. Brienne hovered, hesitating; unsure what to do with herself. The decision was quickly made for her as the bathroom door opened once again, and Coach Jaime stood in a pair of her father’s jogging bottoms and nothing more. 

“You know, I don’t make a habit of going to my players’ homes for a shower,” he said. “I was hoping to see you.” 

Her stomach somersaulted, and Brienne had never hated herself more than at that moment. “You were?”

“Yeah. I saw pictures of the team back when you were at Evenfall Primary; the articles from the local paper and the trophies you won. Arya’s seen them, too. I know it’s none of my business, but I think she’d really benefit from you coming to practices. She thinks the world of you.”

Brienne beamed, only for her smile to dim as she realised her ridiculous crush on Coach Jaime had hurt Arya, even from afar. _Damn. _“I’ll see if I can come next weekend. It’s just–there’s a lot going on.”

“I understand. And if you can’t…maybe, one afternoon, we could have a little penalty shoot-out? You were a goalie; I was a striker.” Coach Jaime grinned and pulled on the shirt her father had lent him. _Her _Tarth FC shirt. “I’d love to see what your hands could do.” 

With a smile, Coach Jaime bounded down the stairs to join his team for lunch. So much for not entertaining impossible crushes. 


	110. "Rebirth" - Immortal Jaime Lannister meets the spitting image of Brienne of Tarth (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay okay yes I will 100% prompt New New Amsterdam au first meeting in future preferably?" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea if this is any good. It’s my first fic post-flu, and my sinus infection does not seem to be getting any better. But here we are. Also: this is more Forever than New Amsterdam because I’ve got another immortal!Jaime idea on the books and I wanted to write something a little different. But I hope you enjoy all the same!

Jaime Lannister was dead. Not for the first time. 

In truth, the former knight had long since stopped keeping count of his deaths; six hundred years of immortality and a smart mouth had racked up the numbers. Jaime remembered his first, in the belly of the Red Keep, and he remembered the most painful. This one wouldn’t even make the top one hundred: there was a woman, a mugger, a knife. Pain, blood, and a weightless feeling as the life left him and his body vanished into thin air. Only for him to be reborn, as he always was, where it began. 

Only now the dungeons of the Red Keep was an apartment complex, and the specific spot he died was a fountain. 

“Maiden save me, that man’s not wearing any clothes!”

_Oh, _and every time he was reborn, he emerged naked. 

Stepping out of the fountain, Jaime shook his damp hair and waved at the startled woman with his right arm as his only hand covered his cock. This wasn’t the first time he’d been reborn in the fountain; nor would it be his last. Thankfully, he’d started stashing clothes in the courtyard, and a phone so he could call Ty for a pick-up. Rebirth meant no clothes, no phone, no prosthetic hand. Just Jaime Lannister in his nameday suit. 

Today, he made it two steps before the gates to the courtyard opened, and two gold cloaks entered. Well, _fuck. _“Ser, _ser, _if you could come with us please?”

Which was how Jaime found himself wrapped in a blanket and bundled in the back of a patrol car. _Again. _Six hundred years of immortality meant he had seen more, _done _more than he ever had in his first lifetime. He’d travelled as far as Mereen and seen beyond the Wall. He’d worked as a sailor, a bodyguard, and even forged chains at the Citadel. He’d buried three children and two siblings, and had loved – truly – only once. As far as being stabbed in a mugging and arrested for public indecency, this was just an ordinary day. 

Booking, spare clothes, questioned by Officer Swann. Jaime practically yawned. “Name?”

“Jaime Hill.” Even now, the name _Lannister _meant something. He’d never used it; not since his first life. “_Detective _Jaime Hill. I work in homicide.”

Officer Swann stiffened. “You woke for Chief Redwyne.” 

“I’m her top man,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And, as I told you back at the complex, I have a tendency to sleepwalk. Won’t you look a fool, arresting King’s Landing’s _top _homicide detective just because he walks in his sleep.” 

“You were naked.”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t care for pyjamas, what more can I say?”

Officer Swann pursed his lips, rose from his chair and discussed options with the other gold cloak who’d brought him in. Jaime just tapped his fingertips against the desk as he waited for them to make the _right _decision and let him go. Eventually, Officer Swann came back to him. 

“You’re free to go, Detective Hill. I’ll see if I can’t get the _Beauty _to drive you home.” 

“The Beauty?” 

Swann barked out a laugh. “Officer Payne. She’s new to the precinct.” 

A name was called; a figure in the corner of the bullpen turned around. And at that moment all the air left his body, yet Jaime was not reborn. He just sat, transfixed, as the spitting image of _Brienne of Tarth _crossed the room to join him. He’d forgotten many things of his first life, but the Stranger had given him one more torment, and that was never being able to forget her face. Officer Payne was just as tall, as broad. Her eyes were the same shade of blue; her blonde hair longer and pulled into a ponytail. _Gods, _even her scowl was the same. 

“I wasn’t staring,” he said, when both of them knew he had been. “I _mean, _I _was, _but only because you look like someone I went to university with.”

Beside them, Swann just chuckled. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Officer Payne will drive you home, Detective.” 

Swann may have missed the eye roll, but Jaime certainly didn’t. Brienne – _Officer Payne _– walked him across the bullpen without a word, and Jaime kept his own lip zipped until they were out of earshot. “I can only assume you must be a better driver than they are.”

“Better gold cloak. They can’t stomach the competition.” She didn’t meet his gaze as they left the precinct. “Where am I taking you?” 

“Lion Antiquities. My—” _Great-however-many-nephew._ “—my friend owns the store; I live above it.”

“Fine.”

Not another word was exchanged between them as they settled in Officer Payne’s squad car. The hour had grown late; the streets quiet. Officer Payne maintained the speed limit and stopped for every red light. Jaime almost laughed; this was _exactly _how the honourable Ser Brienne of Tarth would drive had she ever lived this long. _No, _she’d died centuries ago. But Officer Payne was her mirror. For a moment, Jaime leaned back against the leather seat and settled himself to the sound of her breathing. He’d long forgotten her voice, or the sounds she made whilst fighting or fucking, but the sound of Officer Payne breathing made him feel _safe _for the first time in six hundred years. 

“What’s your name?” _No answer. _“I’m Jaime Hill; homicide detective.” Still nothing. “A passenger has a right to know his driver’s name.” 

A long, withered sigh. “Brienne Payne.” 

_Fuck. _She was even called Brienne. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Six hundred years and the Gods had created someone with her features, with parents who had given her the name of the first female knight. _Fuck, _there was even a miniature Oathkeeper hanging from the rearview mirror; other gold cloaks might have fuzzy dice, but _this _Officer had a miniature Valyrian sword. _Do you realise, Brienne Payne, how much you look like _her_? _

“Do you like working as an officer?” he asked instead. “Chief Redwyne is always looking for good detectives.” 

“I’m not interested in handouts.” 

Jaime huffed. “I’m not–I’m _just _asking. You seem—”

“—a car ride together where I’m practically your chauffeur is _not _a firm representation of my investigative skills.” Brienne Payne tapped her indicator. “Whatever you want in exchange for your recommendation, you can keep it.”

“Brienne—” and, _oh, _how good it felt to say _that _name again.

“—we’re here.”

And so they were. Lion Antiquities; Ty (short for Tyrion, another mirror) busy inside haggling with a customer. Brienne Payne didn’t open his door or offer another word – not even to scold him. She just kept two hands upon the wheel and two eyes upon the road and let Jaime step out. He watched her, though, until the taillights from her patrol car blinked around the corner. In his many years, Jaime had struggled to understand his purpose; of _why _he had been granted immortality. Maybe, _just maybe, _it had something to do with Brienne Payne. 

He’d certainly be seeing more of her, of that Jaime was very sure. 

–

Brienne pulled her squad car into the first layby along from Lion Antiquities. Her fingers fumbled with the ignition, and then there was nothing but the sound of her own breathing. Rough, ragged breaths that Brienne drew into her lungs. After a few minutes, she reached for her phone. Tapped in her pin, found her contacts, and pressed call. It took a few rings, but her call was answered. 

“_Brienne? It’s late. Is everything all right?”_

“I’m sorry to call so late, Cat, but I—” Brienne of Tarth sighed. “I’ve just met the spitting image of Jaime Lannister.”


	111. "Noise" - Brienne Tarth can hear the thoughts of those around her. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh hello I am 100% here to prompt ‘hearing each other’s thoughts’ or some version of that" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I am 1000% here to write a version of that! I hope you enjoy, Anon! <3

“Good morning, Ms Tarth,” greeted Jeyne at reception. “Good weekend?” _Probably spent the whole weekend at home with her cat. _

Brienne stiffened as she swiped her key card. “I don’t have a cat.”

Jeyne fumbled; a line forming across her brow. “I didn’t say—”

_No, _Brienne thought, _you didn’t say anything. _That was part of the problem. Somehow, Brienne could hear what Jeyne was thinking. Even what song the security guard was singing in his head. Brienne knew how bored the man with the blue tie was; knew all about the affair the woman in the pencil skirt was having. It was…_deafening. _

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brienne raced through reception and headed for the stairs. She couldn’t stomach taking the lift up to the twenty-eighth floor. 

Thankfully, no one else took the stairs, so Brienne was allowed some peace as she walked up to her office. She probably would have taken the stairs anyway, avoiding the stares and gossip at the egg-shaped lump atop her forehead. Brienne had made the mistake of trying to stop a woman outside her building from being mugged, and had been knocked to the kerb for her trouble. After a visit to the emergency room, Brienne had returned home only to discover she could hear people’s thoughts. 

Not a pleasant experience, looking as she did. 

Sighing, Brienne finally made it onto the twenty-eighth floor, and the law offices of Lannister, Baratheon, and Targaryen. They were the most feared law firm in King’s Landing – nay, _Westeros _itself – and getting a position there was a coup for any lawyer. Brienne had been recruited by one of the senior partners, Renly Baratheon. He had found her arguments spirited and well-researched, and her research skills were currently helping Renly win case after case in civil court. 

He was also the first person to address her as she entered the office. “Brienne! What in the name of the Seven happened to your head?”

“It’s nothing really,” she said, stomach churning as Renly crossed the foyer and joined her by the entrance. Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed her temple. “Just an accident outside my building.”

“You poor thing.” _I hope this won’t stop her from doing that research I need for the Bolton case. _Brienne swallowed. “Are you sure you should even be in?” _With a head that thick, she should be fine. _

“I—” Brienne resisted the urge to flinch, to pull away from Renly’s comforting touch; such a stark contrast to the thoughts inside his head. “I’ll be fine, Mister Baratheon.”

He smiled. “_Please, _Brienne, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s Renly.” _That’s it, put on a little charm. _“I’m actually really glad you’re here, Brienne. I have some important work for you.” _You can do all the boring paperwork while Jason on five sucks me off in the toilets. _“I can’t trust anyone else with this.”_ Because you’re pathetically in love with me, and stupid enough to agree to do all my work. _“Can I count on you, Brienne?”

“I think I need to sit down.”

She pushed past Renly, staggering to her broom cupboard of an office. Once inside, she turned the blinds and locked the door. _Fuck. _It wasn’t as if she expected Renly to share her feelings. But for him to so blatantly _use _them for his own ends…Brienne sucked in a breath, closed her eyes, and tried to calm herself. _Fuck. _It wasn’t enough that the Gods had cursed her with a tall, broad frame and ugly features. They had now cursed her with the knowledge of all those around her. 

Brienne wondered how many other people secretly found her wanting. 

Suddenly, there were two raps at her door. She unlocked it, thrust it open, and came face-to-face with one of the paralegals, Podrick. “Sorry to disturb, Ms Tarth, but the staff meeting is just about to start.”

“Thank you, Podrick.”

“You’re welcome, Ms Tarth.” _She said my name again. No one else knows my name. _“Did you want some ice for your forehead? Maybe some painkillers? Or a coffee?” 

Brienne shook her head, regretting the move instantly. “No, thank you. But…_thank you, _Podrick.”

It seemed not everyone found her lacking in some way. She patted Pod on the shoulder as she passed through her office door, and joined the other associates in making their way to the conference room. Renly stood at the head of the table, along with the other senior partner who worked at this branch, Jaime Lannister. Brienne had never cared for him: he was arrogant, slick, and the underhanded way he had ousted one of the firm’s own partners had been a disgrace to the legal profession. Her disrespect was mutual: he found her boring, an object of ridicule. 

She took a seat far, _far _away from him. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Lannister said, drawing the room to attention. “We have several high profile cases in the works and Mister Baratheon and I would like updates. Let’s start with Addam.”

As the senior associates went around the table and explained the status of their open cases, Brienne was bombarded by more thoughts than she could to process. Two colleagues were secretly dropping the ball; a pair of associates were fucking each other and charging clients for the time. In her head, Brienne began humming the first song she could think of to drown out the thoughts. She got through two verses of _The Bear and the Maiden Fair _before a voice called to her. 

_Gods, she really is the most singular woman. I could stare at her for hours. _

Brienne lifted her head, recognising the voice. It seemed that Lannister was attracted to one of their colleagues; what a cliche. Was it Melara Hetherspoon, who handled the firm’s divorce cases? What about Pia, one of the paralegals? There were several beautiful women around the table; any one of them could have caught his eye. Brienne could care less about who a man like Jaime Lannister was attracted to. 

_Her eyes. They’re so blue. A man could drown happily in those eyes. _Brienne shivered and looked across the table. Lannister immediately ducked his gaze to the paperwork in front of him. _Fuck, did she catch me? Probably not. Tarth’s always looking at Renly anyway. _

_She never looks at me. _


	112. "Telepathy" - Brienne continues to struggle with her new 'gift'. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know we just got it, but is there a chance of a follow-up to Brienne being able to read people's minds? It's sooooo good." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the response to telepathic!Brienne, and I truly hope you enjoy this follow-up!

Brienne’s elbow jerked, and a nearby coffee cup tipped to the side; brown liquid spilling across the conference room table. Her colleagues scrambled to clear away the papers littering the surface; a flurry of thoughts bombarding Brienne as she suddenly became the focal point of the meeting. 

_What a klutz. _

_You’d think someone with arms that long would have better control over them. _

_What is Tarth even _doing _here? She hasn’t worked on a proper case in _months. 

_Fuck; thanks a lot, Tarth! Why don’t you go back to the bridge you crawled out from?_

_She shouldn’t be here. She probably has a concussion. _

Brienne looked up at that last thought; Jaime Lannister’s voice cutting clear across the din. Despite the concern in every syllable, the senior partner sat in his chair, scrolling through his phone with disinterest. He seemed utterly oblivious to her mishap at the other end of the table. And, yet, Brienne was _sure _it was him. Sure it was his voice, filled with longing, that had called out for her to look at _him _for once. And, yet—

“Are you finished, Ms Tarth?” Brienne opened her mouth to respond, but Lannister didn’t allow her the opportunity. “Good. Stone: update on the Greyjoy case.” 

As one of her fellow associates launched into the latest legal battle between the brothers warring over their father’s will, Brienne dropped to her seat; cheeks flushed. On a normal day, knocking over a coffee cup and drawing the ire of a senior partner would rank amongst one of her worst. But her newfound…_ability _pushed it to the very top. Her colleagues barely tolerated her. Renly Baratheon used her. And Jaime Lannister— _Well, _Brienne wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him just yet. 

The meeting finally drew to a close, and her colleagues filed out one-by-one. Renly was the first to leave; he had an appointment with an intern at the advertising agency on five for some illicit fun in the men’s bathroom. Her colleagues had casework, calls to make, games to play. Brienne was the last to rise, and almost the last to leave. Jaime Lannister remained sitting; his manicured fingertips tracing the grain in the wood. 

“We don’t do injury claims here, Ms Tarth.” 

Her forehead furrowed. “I’m–I’m sorry?” 

He pointed at her face. “The bump on your head. This is a serious firm, taking on serious cases. You won’t find anyone here to take your case if you decide to sue.” _A lawsuit is too good for whatever animal did that to you, anyway. A broken jaw would be better. _

“I—” Brienne was tired of half-finishing her sentences; so overwhelmed was she that words were far beyond her grasp. So she swallowed, straightened, and said: “I don’t intend to sue, Mister Lannister, but I do intend to press charges when the gold cloaks catch whoever was responsible.”

If she hadn’t heard his soft, aching thoughts, Brienne would have missed the taut line of his shoulders; the tightening of his grasp around the table. “You were attacked?” _A broken jaw is far too good. I’ll call Tyrion; he knows people. We’ll have him buried by day’s end. _

“No!” Brienne blurted; Lannister’s eyes widening at her sudden outburst. _Fuck. “I mean_, I _was _attacked, but only because I was trying to save someone else from being mugged.” 

“Well, aren’t you the gallant knight.” _Like Ser Blue. Tall, strong; I bet you could pin me–no, Jaime, not in the workplace. _“We have an excellent healthcare policy, Ms Tarth; we here at Lannister, Baratheon, and Targaryen pride ourselves on it, in fact. I suggest you use it.”_ Please go home, Brienne. Get some rest. _

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But this was me covering my own arse; if you decide to sue us later for breach of care or…_whatever, _your case won’t hold water. I’d get some ice for your head, though. That bruise makes you look even uglier than usual.” 

Lannister rose from his seat and made his departure from the conference room. He looked like the Warrior as he departed: expensive suit, well-cut mane, golden grin. But Brienne could hear his thoughts, and they betrayed a different kind of man. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did you say that, you idiot? Now she’s going to think you think she’s ugly, and judging from last night’s— _Brienne was grateful when Lannister disappeared from her eye-line, and she could no longer hear him. If she had any doubts that his thoughts were about _her, _they had evaporated some ago. Jaime Lannister, the most eligible bachelor in King’s Landing and a disgrace to the legal profession, _liked _her. 

Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too loud. _Too much noise. _

Brienne retreated to her office, adjusted the blinds and shut the door. She logged onto her company laptop and pulled up a search engine, deciding to start at the beginning. _Hearing people’s thoughts _brought up more than a few results about mental illness. _Telepathy _was a more prosperous search, although Brienne was led to more than one site promising to teach people how to read thoughts for a monthly fee. Her search came up with nothing as to how to control or stop it; the most useful advice she saw was _not _telling a maester she could hear other people’s thoughts. 

After a while, Brienne opened a new window and typed in _Jaime Lannister. _

As expected, there was the firm’s website; a series of tabloid articles detailing his well-publicised affair with his step-sister. The _images _tab revealed numerous photoshoots for various magazines, including a charity calendar of various attorneys in the city. Renly’s month had been in Brienne’s kitchen all year round. The _news _tab made mention of cases he’d won – and the Aerys Targaryen debacle. He’d wrecked Targaryen’s defence on purpose; had almost been disbarred had his father not come to his aid. Jaime Lannister was deplorable. And he _liked _her. 

Before Brienne could fall down a rabbit hole about what that said about _her, _there were two knocks at the door. Renly didn’t even wait to be invited in before he came inside, throwing her that winning smile. “Hey, you.”

She quickly pulled down the lid of her laptop before he could see the pictures of Jaime and jump to the wrong conclusion. “Hello yourself.”

“So, earlier, I mentioned that _very _special job for you?” 

“Right.”

“Shall we head to my office? We can talk about the case, one-on-one.” _Come on, you never miss the opportunity for some alone time with me, Brienne. Take my special job, so I can get some jobs of my own down at the Club. _“I’ll get the tea – no coffee.” 

“I–I can’t.” _Are you serious? _Brienne _was_ serious. She was better than this; a better _lawyer _than this. Now she knew the truth, she would not let herself be used in such fashion. “I’m afraid I’m working on another case already.”

Renly chuckled. “_Well, _as a senior partner, I’m sure we can move a few people around.” _Are you really trying to play hard to get, Brienne?_

“The case I’m working on _is_ for a senior partner. Mister Lannister asked for my help.” 

_Oh, fuck off he did. He can’t stand you. _“He did?” At that exact moment, as if the Gods wished to test Brienne further, Lannister walked by her office. “Jaime, can I bother you for a minute?”

“Why stop at a minute?” _Why couldn’t you have run the Storm’s End office? Your brother is a bore, but at least you know where you stand with him. _“What’s wrong, Renly?”

“Brienne here says you’ve asked for her help on a case? I was rather hoping she could help with mine.” 

Lannister’s head swivelled towards her; one eyebrow raised, intrigued. “She did, hmm?” _Don’t tell me you’ve finally wised up to this arse, Tarth. _She had. And if it came down to it, she’d rather listen to his thoughts than Renly’s. What a sorry state her life had become. “Well, she is. Working with me on a case.”

Renly spluttered. “But–but Brienne and I have a special working relationship.”

_Oh, I know all about your relationship. She does all the work while you galivant around town._ “Well, this case requires Ms Tarth’s special skillset. Sorry, Renly. Guess she’s mine now.”

Brienne was about to voice an objection over being treated like property when she heard Jaime’s inaudible sigh. _If only. _


	113. "Interview" - Curator Brienne Tarth tries to find a new assistant. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "ASSISTANT JAIME ASSISTANT JAIME ASSISTANT JAIME!!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, how about a second prompt today?! I hope you enjoy, Anon.

Brienne Tarth, the new head curator of the Aerys Targaryen Museum of Ancient History, was rather wishing she was back running the tiny Evenfall museum on Tarth. She had no need for an assistant back home; she could make her own appointments, handle her own paperwork. But King’s Landing’s biggest museum required more of her, and as such, Brienne had to delegate the little things. 

If only she could find an assistant she actually _liked. _

The first, Jeyne, immediately began making comments about Brienne’s appearance and what she could do to _improve, _as if Brienne was hiring a stylist rather than an assistant. The second, Podrick, was a sweet lad who had just finished his degree. She was almost tempted to hire him until she saw his phone manner, and knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with the biting members of the board. The third, Petyr, was cocky, liked to talk in abstract concepts, and answered a call from a ‘bud’ during his interview. 

By the time Brienne had seen a further ten candidates, she had started looking for airfare home. 

As the evening drew in, and her last interviewee left, Brienne began packing up her things and wondering whether she could coach poor Podrick on his telephone skills. But just as she slipped her laptop into her satchel, a hand appeared and knocked on her door. “Excuse me, Professor Tarth?”

“Yes?”

A man appeared in her doorway, framed by the last dregs of daylight. Brienne would be forgiven for mistaking him for a statue of the Warrior come to life: he was tall, firm, with golden hair and wildfire green eyes. He was the most beautiful man Brienne had ever seen. She had no idea what he was doing in the office of a museum curator, however, but she considered looking upon him a reward from the Seven after a truly _hellish _day. 

He smiled at her, and Brienne’s stomach somersault. “Sorry to intrude like this, but I was hoping to have a moment of your time. I believe you’re interviewing for assistants?” 

“I–I am,” Brienne said, unsure where this was going. “I’m sorry, Mister—”

“—Lannister. Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “Lannister as in—”

“—Lannister Holdings, yes.” He smiled sheepishly, as if ashamed by his family connections. “Professor Tarth, I was hoping I could interview for the position of your assistant.”

Brienne spluttered, not expecting those words to fall from his lips. She had grown up somewhat sheltered on Tarth, but the Lannister name travelled. They were pioneers of business; old money when coins were _new. _Lannisters were so rich they didn’t have to work, but if they _did, _they worked in the family business. They did _not _show up in a curator’s office and ask to be their _assistant. _

“Mister Lannister—”

“—_Jaime_, please. Look, I know this is a little unorthodox, but could you at least look at my CV?”

Brienne nodded, unsure what else to do. Jaime handed her his CV, two pages neatly typed, and eagerly took one of the chairs in front of her desk. As she circled to sit back down, Brienne took stock of Jaime Lannister. _Beautiful, _certainly. His suit, with the crimson and gold tie, cost more than a month’s rent. But there were dark circles under his eyes. And while his left hand tapped out a rhythm on his knee, his right remained still upon her desk. Looking closer, Brienne realised it was a prosthetic. 

“Car accident,” he offered, pulling his right hand atop her lap. “But I can still drive, Professor; do errands, pick up coffee. It won’t be a problem.”

“I never said it would be.” She settled behind her desk. “Okay, let’s take a look at your CV. You graduated from Lannisport University with a degree in business. You’ve had…_one _job since graduation.” Brienne wrinkled her nose. “You weren’t vice-president at twenty-two, surely?”

Jaime shrugged. “Father doesn’t believe in working up the ranks. But I’m a hard worker, Professor Tarth; I led numerous deals and made Lannister Holdings a _significant _sum of money. Probably more than you’ll ever see in your lifetime.”

“I see.” She put Jaime Lannister’s CV to one side. “I’m afraid, Mister Lannister, you’re not what I’m after.” 

His face fell; his left-hand stilling atop his knee. “Oh.” 

“You’re _clearly _a very experienced businessman, but I don’t need one of those. I need an assistant. Someone who can organise my diary and appointments, handle phone calls, take dictation during meetings, produce background information.” Brienne sighed. “You’ve had assistants before, I’m sure, Mister Lannister. You know what I need.”

“I have, and I can do it. I can do it all!” Jaime rose to his feet. “Organise your diary? I’ve been keeping track of my brother’s excuses for years. I’m a charming man; I’ll have anyone who calls your office eating out of your hand. I’ve been taking notes in boring boardroom meetings for years; just enough that I know what’s going on. And I can conduct research on your behalf, Professor Tarth. I’ve had to do it for business deals; I can do it for museum exhibits, incoming pieces: _anything_ you need.” He threw up his hands. “I’ll get your coffee, I’ll get your lunch; _fuck, _I’ll even pick up your dry cleaning. I want this job!”

Brienne stared, open-mouthed, across the table. Not one of her interviewees had been so passionate. Not one of her interviewees had been so _desperate. _“You must forgive me, Mister Lannister, but I can’t understand why a man like you would be interested in a job like this.”

“There are no men like me. Only me.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“You didn’t ask a question.” Jaime retook his seat. “Professor Tarth, I know I’m not _entirely _qualified for this position. But I want this job. I _need _this job. I may not have all the experience, but I’ve got more historical knowledge than _anyone _you’ve interviewed today.”

Brienne resisted the urge to snort. She had seen candidates with multiple history degrees; one who had even forged a link at the Citadel. But if Jaime Lannister thought himself so astute, Brienne would be happy to continue their interview – and hopefully bring it to a swift end. “Who was the last King of Westeros?” 

“Tommen of House Lannister.” He grinned. “Bran the Unyielding doesn’t count; he’s just a legend. No one could live for one hundred and fifty years.”

“All right. We have a Valyrian steel sword currently on display. What happened to her sister sword?”

Jaime barked out a laugh. “You mean Widow’s Wail_, _forged from the Stark sword Ice, and lost after the Fall of King’s Landing? Well, it currently hangs in my living room. Nice inheritance from my grandfather.”

“It does _not.”_

He grinned, leaning across the desk. “Does too. Hire me, and maybe I’ll let you touch it.”

Brienne stared at Jaime across the desk; her body leaning forward to match his energy. “I’m still not convinced. Why did Goldenhand the Just murder King Aerys II?”

“Wildfire under the city; he killed the King to save the people of King’s Landing. A controversial opinion for some historians, but there’s enough evidence to prove the theory correct.”

She beamed. “You know your history.”

“I read your book. _Goldenhand: Kingslayer or Oathbreaker. _Hire me, Professor Tarth, you won’t regret it.”

With the glint of gold in his eyes and the charming smile of a siren from the straits of Tarth, Brienne believed she _would_ come to regret it. And yet: “Can you start tomorrow?”


	114. "Love Letters" - Jaime is in hot water when his old flames try and re-connect. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "JB + love letters" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt, Anon! I hope you enjoy this take; it’s a riff on ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’.

“Well, that was Cersei on the phone,” Jaime said, huffing as he took the seat opposite his _dear _brother. “She wants to postpone the wedding. She’s heading to Sunspear for a few days. _She needs time to think.”_

Across from him, Tyrion simply took a sip of his drink. “Really? How interesting?”

“‘How interesting’? That’s all you have to say?” Jaime clenched the arms of his chair in the hotel lounge, desperately wanting to spend an hour in front of a punching bag, or an afternoon with a sword. Just _something _to release the anger he felt. He settled for raising his voice. “How could you do this to me?”

_This _being sending Jaime’s old love letters to their recipients a week before his wedding. Growing up, he’d had trouble verbalising his feelings, so he’d taken to writing them down on paper. Tyrion must have found them while snooping for dirt for his best man speech, and posted them for some yet-to-be-determined reason. 

Five letters, five women. Five reasons he wasn’t getting married in three days.

The first had not raised any red flags: after all, it had been written to his step-sister and current fiancee, Cersei. She’d thought it somewhat saccharine, but the letter had quickly been forgotten in favour of wedding preparations. But then her childhood friend Melara had shown up at the hotel clutching a love letter from Jaime, and things had only gone from bad to worse. Catelyn Tully-Stark, who Jaime had spent many a summer with, had been _far _too polite on the phone as she explained she was now happily married with five children. Taena, who had worked at Lannister Holdings for a time, had arrived at his hotel room in a trenchcoat and not much else. 

That was when Cersei decided she needed time to _think. _And Jaime couldn’t blame her. He blamed Tyrion instead. 

“I know you and Cersei have never got along—”

“—understatement of the century, Brother,” Tyrion said; index finger tapping the glass. “You deserve better.”

“So, what, you sent out my old love letters to find me a better bride?” Jaime slumped in his chair. “I love her, Tyrion.”

“And does she love you? Truly?” He made to answer, but his brother cut him off. “Was Cersei upset because all your old flames were coming out of the woodwork so close to your wedding? Or was she upset because you have not been entirely devoted to her throughout your entire life? The first is understandable. The second is cause for concern.” Tyrion grinned around the rim of his drink. “And she didn’t even meet the worst one.”

“_Brienne_.”

“Jaime?”

His hands clenched around the arms of his chair as he heard a voice as familiar to him as his own. Jaime turned, and was greeted by the sight of Brienne Tarth – albeit nearly twenty years older than his recollections. Over the years, he’d thought he’d exaggerated her presence; the blue of her eyes. But he’d recalled her perfectly. Of course, there were a couple of lines, now; her hair was longer. But her gaze was still kind and her smile was still warm and in her grasp was his letter. 

Shooting Tyrion yet another death glare, Jaime rose from his seat and addressed his best friend. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but she had been his only one. “_Brienne_. It’s good to see you.”

“And you. I–um–I got your letter.” She handed the blue envelope to him; he’d been so proud of finding paper the colour of her eyes. “I opened it, but when you started talking about the tourney reenactment as if it was last week, I realised it was an old letter. I didn’t read any more. It felt too…personal.”

Jaime took the letter. “That’s good of you. You could have posted it back, you know. You didn’t have to travel all the way to Lannisport.” 

Brienne’s teeth toyed with her bottom lip. Jaime remembered classes and study sessions and time spent together where that sole action brought a flutter of butterflies to his stomach. It still did. “Well, I _did, _actually. I–Gods, I’m going to sound utterly ridiculous.” 

“You won’t.” 

“I wanted to thank you. You were the best part of university for me, and knowing that _someone _– least of all you – liked me that way is…it’s a _good _feeling.” She ran a hand through her hair; a familiar pink flush covering her cheeks. “_Please, _make fun of me for being so stupid.” 

Jaime shook his head. “I won’t.”

“For once,” she said, with a grin, and Jaime felt his stomach do somersaults. “It’s really good to see you, Jaime. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

“Me too.” 

For the three years of his undergraduate degree, and the year of his masters, Brienne Tarth had been the focal point of his whole world. First a rival, then a peer, then his dearest friend. He’d fallen in love with her somewhere in their second year, and he hadn’t stopped loving her after he’d returned home to Lannisport, and she to Tarth. But their lives had grown busy; communication had dwindled. A few years later, Cersei had returned from her internship at the Iron Bank, and he’d rekindled his first love. 

But now his greatest stood in front of him. “How long are you in town for?”

“A few days. I’d hoped–I _mean_–your office said you were here for a wedding.” Brienne fiddled with the strap of her bag. “but I had hoped we could catch up; grab a coffee. Obviously, you’ve got the wedding—”

“—wedding’s been postponed,” Jaime blurted. “Bride needs some time to think, and…the groom does, too. So, _yes, _let’s do coffee. Or dinner – we could do dinner!”

Brienne beamed. “Dinner sounds good. Let me give you my number, and we can sort out a time and place.” 

Jaime looked up at Brienne, watching a strand of hair fall across her forehead, as she typed her number into his phone. Once done, Brienne made her departure through the hotel lobby. Jaime then re-took his seat in front of Tyrion, who had refilled his drink during his re-connection with Brienne. His brother said nothing; simply sipped his drink.

Perhaps he wouldn’t kill Tyrion after all. At least, not until _after _dinner.


	115. "Chivalry" - After a bad date, Brienne unexpectedly runs into her knight in shining armour (Mod/Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "After a horrible blind date, Brienne wishes she could meet a lord or a knight of old instead. When her date follows her, Brienne walks into the road but rather be hit by a car, she finds herself along a dusty road with Ser Jaime Lannister ready to assist her. I am in love with your brain and I NEED THIS FOR MY HEALTH THANK YOU" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY BRAIN IS WEIRD AND OVER-ACHIEVING BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS PROMPT ALL THE SAME!

Inspired by [these two pictures](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/post/190925158137/these-two-pics-are-currently-unfiled-in-my).

\--

“You’re being ridiculous, Brienne!”

She didn’t stop to give Hyle an answer. She didn’t even stop to grab her coat from the cloakroom. Brienne quickly pushed past the maître d’ and out into the cold night air. Brienne wrapped her arms around herself, trying to encourage warmth into her body. _Stupid dress. _She’d spent so much time and money wanting to look _good _for this date. _Stupid heels. _She tottered down the pavement; not fast or far enough for her liking. _Stupid Hyle. _It had all been a bet. 

“Brienne!” 

She ignored Hyle calling her name and continued down the road. She should have listened to her gut; should have been suspicious of all the interest she had been receiving from her co-workers. But Hyle was sweet and didn’t push, and when he’d asked her to dinner, Brienne couldn’t help but say _yes_. And then, over said dinner, he revealed how much the pot had come to. Hyle had hoped his honesty would encourage her to sleep with him after all. He couldn’t have been more wrong. _Gods, _what had happened to chivalry? Of not being a damn _arse_? 

“Will you _stop _already? I have your coat!” 

Brienne did not stop. Hyle could keep the coat, the rest of her dignity, and the last vestiges of her self-esteem. She would go back to her flat, change out of this ridiculously short and expensive dress, and bury herself in a good book. She’d just bought a non-fiction tome on the knights of old Westeros. Gallant, brave; good, decent men who protected the weak and were honourable to their core. Brienne had never met a man like that. Clearly, they’d all died out in the Long Night. 

“Brienne!”

Hyle had finally caught up to her; he grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Leave me alone, Hyle!”

“Just listen—” 

Brienne used her considerable strength to shove him away. Unfortunately, in doing so, she lost her balance. Those _ridiculous _heels that Margaery had insisted she buy. She fell backwards into the road; her shoulder taking the brunt and her ankle twisting from under her. Hyle, sprawled out on the kerb, got to his feet to help her up; no doubt hoping his half-arsed chivalry would earn him a kiss and a feel. Neither saw the headlights until it was too late. 

Brienne expected pain. But when she opened her eyes, it was to warm rays of sunlight “What in the Seven?” 

Beside her, Hyle groaned into his mouthful of grass. “What the fuck?”

She sat up, surveying her surroundings with wide eyes. Gone was the King’s Landing strip of restaurants and coffee shops; gone were the road and the car threatening to knock them both down. In its place was a wide-open field and not a soul for miles. Apart from the man on horseback approaching them, however. Where _were _they?

“Brienne,” Hyle said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he righted himself. “What the fuck happened?” He placed his right hand on her bare leg to steady himself. “Not bad, Tarth.”

“_Piss off.” _

_S_he pushed him again, only for Hyle to grab her hand. “Stop shoving me, alright? I’m the best you’re ever going to get. You think anyone else will want to fuck you? At least with me, you’ll get an experience you won’t forget.”

“_Yes_, because I’m sure it’ll haunt me in my dreams. Let go of my hand, Hyle, or I’ll break yours.” 

It was at that point the man on horseback reached them. Temporarily blinded by the sun, Brienne could only see a silhouette drop from his horse. She could make out the armour that he was wearing, however, and the sword he unsheathed. _Fuck. _Brienne’s mouth fell open as the man approached. Hyle seemed equally transfixed until the man stopped, cocked his head; not saying a word. 

Hyle, however, did not have that problem. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know what your problem is, but maybe you should get back on your horse and _fuck off.”_

The man snorted. And, quickly, brought his blade within a hair of Hyle’s jugular. The thick stench of urine permeated the air. “I am not a…_buddy. _I am a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and I have found you at the roadside with a lady in great distress.” 

“She’s not _in _distress. We’re friends.”

“We are _not _friends,” Brienne spat, only for the knight’s blade to bury further into Hyle’s neck. “But nor do I wish to see his blood spilt, Ser!”

The knight’s sword retreated; returned to its scabbard. “The lady has spared your life. I suggest you run, and run _far, _lest I decide not to listen to her.”

Hyle’s head jerked between the knight and Brienne. Swallowing, he stumbled to his feet and took off in the opposite direction; his loafers slapping against the dirt road. Brienne wasn’t entirely sure _what _was happening, or where they were, but she knew she couldn’t let Hyle die because of her. A broken jaw; maybe a busted nose. But not bleeding out in the middle of Seven-knows-where. 

With Hyle out of the way, Brienne could concentrate on herself. Namely, the knight kneeling by her side. She could see him better, now. Dark-blonde hair falling across bottle-green eyes. A beard covering a cutting jawline. Red and gold armour; lions forged into the metal. He was a bannerman of House Lannister; Brienne knew that sigil well. Despite his willingness to slit Hyle’s throat, he betrayed a gentleness, now, as he took her hand. 

“How greatly did that cad hurt you, my lady?”

“Just my pride.” The knight raised a single eyebrow. “I can take care of myself.”

His brow furrowed as he took in her appearance. “But your dress… there’s little material left. Did he—”

“—_Gods, _no. This is a new fashion in…_Essos,” _Brienne lied, unsure how to explain the change in fashion and feminism in the centuries since men carried swords and wore full suits of armour. “Thank you, Ser, for your help. It’s very much appreciated.”

“It’s nothing, my Lady. I swore a vow to protect the innocent.”

“Well, _thank you_.” Brienne used her free hand to pat his arm before rising to her feet. _Well, _she tried to. It appeared as if she had twisted her ankle in the fall; her joint now screamed in agony as she made to stand. Sagging, Brienne clutched her knight’s arm once more. “My ankle. I can’t get up.”

“There is a maester at my current lodgings. I shall take you to him. Come now, my lady; put your arms around my neck. I shall carry you to my horse.”

Brienne couldn’t help herself. She snorted. “You can’t carry me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” And before Brienne knew it, one of the knight’s arms had reached underneath her knees whilst the other supported her back. Brienne found herself gathered in his arms; her face far too close to his. She could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes; the creases around his mouth as he smirked. “I’m strong enough.” 

And so he was. The Golden Lion carried her to his white horse, and for the first time in her life, Brienne felt like a princess. But she wasn’t a princess, or a noblewoman. She was an assistant curator very, _very _far from home. 


	116. "Autograph" - Jaime goes to King's Landing Comic Con to meet his favourite actress. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaime is a fan of actress!Brienne and her show Oathkeeper, even going so far as to cosplay at events she attends. He is not, however, a fan of her love interest, played by Hyle Hunt. YES PLEASE" (remuslovestonks)

“Seven Hells, mate, you look _exactly _like Goldenhand!” 

Jaime grinned at the man ahead of him in the queue. He looked down at his breastplate; the burnished steel and _actual _gold lion heads. “What, this old thing?”

“Um, _yes_! You look more like Goldenhand than the guy they got to play him on _Oathkeeper_!” 

As his fellow con attendee nudged his friends and pointed at Jaime’s breastplate and broadsword, his brother sighed. Jaime frowned. “What?”

“You know full well that you look _exactly _like Goldenhand the Just. Not only because Goldenhand was a Lannister, but because you spent more than people spend on a _house_ on your cosplay.” 

Jaime shrugged as best he could in his armour. “You’re always saying I should live a little.”

“_Yes, _but buy a yacht; a round of drinks in a bar. Not a historically accurate suit of armour and an _actual _Valyrian steel blade.” 

“It’s foam. Wouldn’t get through the metal detectors otherwise.” 

Tyrion hung his head, but quickly lifted it as the doors to King’s Landing Comic-Con opened. Jaime did not share his brother’s love of wine or women, and Tyrion did not share his love of fencing or boxing, but the television show _Oathkeeper _was something that they could enjoy together. They had viewing parties every week, and were now attending their first convention in the hope of meeting the cast and crew. Tyrion, and no doubt most of the men in the queue, were hoping to meet Margaery Tyrell, famous for playing Queen Rose on the show. 

Jaime, however, had his eye on someone else. 

As the queue progressed inside, Jaime rested his hand on the scabbard he hoped to get signed by Brienne Tarth, the actress playing Lady Alysanne, who would later become the Blue Knight. As a child, Jaime had been fascinated by stories of Ser Blue and Goldenhand; as an adult, he had devoured a series of historical fiction novels set in the period. The show was…_okay. _Far too much nudity; several factual inaccuracies that Jaime did not care for at _all. _But Brienne Tarth was perfect. 

And today, he would get to meet her. 

The line pitched forward, and the Lannister brothers entered the exhibition centre. The cast and crew of _Oathkeeper _were sat at a string of tables on the east side; queues already forming for autographs and selfies. Tyrion pointed at the furthest table. “There she is. Margaery Tyrell.”

“And Jon Snow beside her. He looks confused.”

“Probably can’t remember what show he’s on.” They shared a laugh. The Wolf King and the White Walkers were the most boring storyline on _Oathkeeper _in Jaime’s opinion_. _“And there’s your _least _favourite person.” 

“I’d give up my entire inheritance to see Cersei at a convention, but I don’t think that’s her.” Tyrion rolled his eyes and pointed at the table closest to them; sitting behind it was the actor who played Goldenhand. _Hyle Hunt. “Oh, _that least favourite person. Smith save us all, he’s terrible. I don’t know why they haven’t fired him. He can’t _act. _And he has no chemistry with Brienne. None.”

“You know, I think I might have heard this before. Was it the critical reviews of last season? The online fan boards?” Tyrion tapped his thumb and forefinger on his chin. “No, I think it was you during _every _episode.”

Jaime glared at his brother. “Don’t you have Margaery Tyrell to meet?” 

His brother grinned. “That I do. Meet back here when we’re done? We can have a look at the stalls before the photo ops.” Jaime nodded. “Fare thee well, Goldenhand. Go get your maiden.”

He flipped his brother the finger; Tyrion cackling as joined the throng of people _desperate _to meet the beauty playing Queen Rose. Jaime had no interest in Margaery Tyrell. Or, in fact, any of the other actors from _Oathkeeper _signing at the convention that day. He only had eyes for Brienne Tarth. _Fuck. _Jaime wiped his damp hand on his historically accurate breeches and tried to recall his plan of what to say. He’d been practising it in the mirror for months ever since Tyrion had sent him a link to the con. At least he’d have some time to wait in the queue to collect himself. 

But, as Jaime approached Brienne Tarth’s table, he saw that no one was waiting. Margaery Tyrell had a ticketing system attached to her signing. Even Hyle _fucking _Hunt had a queue of ten people. But no one wanted to talk to the woman playing the first female knight. _Fuck that. _

Jaime approached the desk. Up close, he could see the freckles adorning her cheeks in a way that an HD television could never represent; the white scar above her lip that they covered with make-up. And when she lifted her head, bemusement crossing her features at his presence, he realised that Brienne’s eyes _really _were that blue. _Fuck. _

“Hello,” she greeted, and Jaime lost all power of thought and speech. “Would you like an autograph?” 

He wet his top lip, struggling for the words. All he could think was _blue_. “Yes,” he managed to get out. “Yes, I would.” 

Jaime handed her assistant a twenty dragon note. He’d intended to get the scabbard signed, but instead, he looked at the array of stills in front of Brienne. All were group shots; some of the cast, two of her and Hyle. None of Lady Alysanne. He frowned. “Do you have any stills of just you?”

This time it was Brienne’s turn to lose the power of speech. She glanced at the photographs in front of her, muttering to herself, “No one really—” before cutting off her sentence and turning to her assistant. “Podrick, do we have those stills from last season?”

“I think so; let me check.”

Podrick, good lad that he was, produced a slim stack of production shots of Lady Alysanne: one at Queen Rose’s wedding, and one in her blue armour; a gift from Goldenhand. Jaime chose the armoured picture. Brienne beamed, and warmth spread through him at the sight of her smile. “That’s my favourite, too. What’s your name?”

“Jaime.”

Brienne laughed, immediately clamping her hand over her mouth as she did so. Her blue eyes widened; her hand resting upon his wrist in a gentle touch. “I am _so _sorry; I didn’t mean to–it’s _just, _you’re dressed as Goldenhand, and canonically, Goldenhand’s name was—”

“Jaime Lannister, I know.” He grinned, staring down more than once at Brienne’s hand on his wrist. “I’m named after him. And you’re named after the Blue Knight.” 

At that, Brienne retreated, leaning backwards in her seat. “I’ve never said that in any interviews.” 

“You didn’t need to. I know my history. Better than the _Oathkeeper _producers that’s for sure.”

Brienne snorted, betraying her own opinion, but quickly composed herself as she scribbled on the still of Lady Alysanne. She handed Jaime his autograph. “I really like your cosplay, Jaime.”

“And I really like you—” _Fuck, Jaime, don’t be weird._ “—your portrayal of Lady Alysanne. She’s my favourite character.” 

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. A couple of people had joined Brienne’s queue, now; group stills requiring Brienne’s signature clutched in their hands. Jaime nodded at Brienne and left her to continue signing. When he was out of the pit, he looked at the autograph Brienne had given and grinned. 

> _To Ser Jaime, _
> 
> _You are truly a knight of the Seven Kingdoms; thank you for your bravery in approaching my table when few else would. Enjoy Season 3._
> 
> _Lady Brienne of Tarth_

Jaime couldn’t stop smiling, even when Tyrion returned clutching his own autograph. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	117. "Contradictions" - Despite her telepathy, Brienne struggles to understand Jaime Lannister. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "TELEPATHIC BRIENNE!.! (shrilaraune)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, Part III! I hope you enjoy.

> _Tarth. Coffee tomorrow. 7.30am. Good Knight Grind. We can discuss the ‘case’ I have you working on. _

The text from Jaime Lannister had come through later that day after she had begged off with a migraine (from the blow to her head, _and _the constant stream of thoughts plaguing her). If Brienne didn’t know any better, she would think Lannister was an arsehole determined to torture her over the lie she had constructed to escape working with Renly. She may not know the man, but she _did _know his thoughts, and his crush on her was overwhelming. 

So much so that, at seven-fifteen, Brienne was standing in the queue and tugging at her shirt collar in the hope of appearing more agreeable to a man she had once considered all that was wrong with the legal profession. 

The door to the _Good Knight Grind _opened. _There she is. Fuck, she’s wearing that blue shirt again. What in the Seven Hells are you trying to do to me, Brienne? _Jaime Lannister suddenly came into view, but offered her nothing more than a polite nod. “Morning, Tarth.”

“Good morning, Mister Lannister.” 

More than a few eyes in the coffee shop drifted to him. He looked like he’d stepped off a photo shoot: dark-blonde hair, designer stubble, gold lion cufflinks. Cool, calm, collected. _Should I have shaved? Does Brienne like men with stubble? Get yourself together, Jaime, this is a business meeting, not a date. _He glanced towards her, briefly, before touching his tie clip: a sword with a lion as its pommel. 

“Oathkeeper,” Brienne said, the corners of her mouth picking up as she recognised the blade, albeit in miniature. 

Jaime lifted the bottom of his tie. “Oh, _um, _I guess. My assistant picked it out.” _She noticed my tie clip; she noticed my tie clip. Should I tell her I’ve got a matching clip of Widow’s Wail?_

“You do?” Brienne asked, only for a line to form across her boss’ forehead as she answered a question he had not asked. “Sorry, I misheard.” 

_It’s far too loud in here. Should have gone somewhere quieter, but I love the name. _Brienne found herself smiling (she, too, loved the name) before quickly adopting a neutral expression. Just because she and Jaime Lannister seemed to share a mutual love of history did _not _mean she _liked _him. He was, after all, an arrogant arse who had torpedoed the defence of a senior partner to advance his own career. 

_One Northern breakfast tea and one iced chocolate chip mocha with extra whipped cream, _Jaime thought beside her, repeating their order multiple times in his head as they approached the front of the line. _One Northern breakfast tea and one iced chocolate chip mocha with extra whipped cream. Should I suggest we get breakfast? Those pastries look good. Should I ask if she’s already eaten? I should probably ask what she wants to drink; I don’t want to look like a creep who knows her order off by heart. _

“Next please!”

They stepped forward. Jaime paused, mentally considering the merits of a bacon sandwich. Brienne addressed the barista in his stead: “One Northern breakfast tea with whole milk; one iced chocolate chip mocha with extra whipped cream; two bacon sandwiches.” She turned to her boss. “Anything else?”

“No–no, that’s spot on.” Brienne moved to her jacket pocket to retrieve her purse. _Oh, fuck no. You’re not paying for this. _With practised ease, Jaime flashed his credit card at the barista. “It’s a business meeting, Tarth. It’s on expenses.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Brienne gave the barista their names, and together they stood off to the side. Jaime leant against the counter, looking like a model amidst the stirrers, napkins, and sachets of sugar. Brienne fiddled with the strap of her satchel and tried not to hum along to the song Jaime was singing in his head. It was catchier than the music playing low in the coffee shop, and better sounding, too. 

“You knew my order,” he said, as the song abruptly cut off. 

“I—” _Can read your mind. _“—I’ve seen you drink it before. It’s not exactly black coffee.” 

_Fuck. I bet Renly drinks black coffee. _His mocking tone was clear, even in his head. “And the bacon sandwich?” 

“It’s a breakfast meeting.”

_A breakfast meeting. It’s not like she wanted to sit with you for longer. It’s not like she wanted to share a meal with you or anything. _“Fine. But check with me first, Tarth; my schedule is built down to the _minute; _next time, I may not be able to attend a _breakfast meeting._”

“I did check,” Brienne fired back; the disparity in Jaime’s thoughts and speech rendering her off-kilter. “I believe your exact words were ‘_No, no, that’s spot on’_.” 

_She’s so hot when she’s angry. “_Impeccable memory, Tarth. Is that why Renly has been using you as a dictaphone ever since you started at the firm?” 

“Not any more.” 

“Yes, of course. _Not any more. _That’s why we’re here, after all. To discuss _our case.”_

Just then, their names were called by another barista, and they took their drinks and sandwiches to a corner table surrounded by students typing furiously at laptops and high powered executives reading the broadsheets. Brienne poured her tea into the cup provided and stirred in the milk. Jaime angrily sucked his iced mocha through a paper straw. Both took several mouthfuls of their bacon sandwich (plenty of bacon; not enough ketchup) before Brienne broke the tense silence. 

“You didn’t have to cover for me.” 

_I know. _“I know.” _But you deserve better than to be Renly’s gofer. _“To be frank, Tarth, I should have done it a long time ago. I believe everyone should carry their weight within the firm, and Renly has allowed you to carry his as well as your own for far too long.” He leant back in his chair. “And he’s a dick.” 

Brienne sighed. “I won’t argue with you.” 

_Shame. You could argue a Lannister out of paying a debt. _“Can I ask what led to this little change of heart? Last week you were practically licking his boots—”

“—and this week, I want to throw them at his head.” Her teeth toyed with her bottom lip as Brienne thought how best to phrase her epiphany other than _I can suddenly read minds and everyone’s a wanker apart from Podrick Payne and you, apparently._ “I…_overheard _some comments he made about me. I won’t be used. I’m better than that.”

_Yes, you are. _“Yes, you are. Well, I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light. If you overhear anything else—”

“—like colleagues padding expenses, sleeping together on company time and property, and searching for depositions that don’t exist to give themselves breathing room on cases that they’re losing?”

Jaime spluttered around his straw. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Brienne hadn’t intended to spill the secrets of her coworkers, but every thought she mentioned to Jaime had been costing the firm and their clients time and money. By the end of her recitation, her tea had grown cold and Jaime’s green eyes ever wider. It had been a _very _informative staff meeting. There was only a handful, actually, who _weren’t _trying to con the firm in one way or another. 

“Fuck,” Jaime exclaimed as she finished. _Dad’s going to have a field day with this. “_Well, thank you for telling me, Brienne. It’s not always easy to inform on a coworker.”_ Not that these people have ever been friends of yours. Not that I’ve been, either. Well, if Willem gets the sack, you can have the office nearer to mine. We could get closer, then. Not that you would ever–one thing at a time, Jaime. “_Dare I ask how you found all this out?” 

“No one really…sees me. People treat me as if I wasn’t there. I hear things.” 

“Well, for the sake of the firm, I’m glad they do. But I’m sorry that they do.” Jaime sighed. His thumb brushed some whipped cream clinging to the straw. “For the record, Brienne, I know I may not have always shown it, but I…I see you.”

“I know.” 

His gaze rose to meet hers; a half-smile upon his features. _And I think you see me, too, now. _

Brienne wasn’t so sure about that. Jaime Lannister was a mess of contradictions; the knowledge of his past and the image of his present collided as often as the softness of his thoughts and the abrasive nature of his words. But maybe – just maybe – she’d like to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	118. "Runaway Bride" - Brienne absconds from her own wedding and ends up in a cab with Jaime. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd love to know more about Oathbreaker!" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of backstory: ‘Oathbreaker’ was part of a fic title game I played; here was the synopsis:
> 
> Jaime gets into a cab in King’s Landing, only for a woman in a wedding dress to get in the other side. He notices the groom swearing and calling her names from outside the cab, and tells the driver to go. As the two get stuck in traffic, Jaime introduces himself to the bride, Brienne, and hears why he essentially helped her run from her own wedding.
> 
> Now here are some paragraphs!

She should be at the altar, now; standing in front of the septon whilst he tied her and Hyle’s hands together with a simple blue ribbon. Instead, Brienne Tarth was sitting in a black cab, waiting in a line of endless traffic, with the most beautiful man she had ever seen in the passenger seat beside her. He looked like he belonged: expensive suit, monogrammed briefcase, well-trimmed beard. _She, _however, looked far from it. 

Brienne fiddled with a loose thread on her wedding dress and stared out the window at the pedestrians walking past. Just then, her ringtone went off. Margaery had changed it to wedding bells only the day before. “_Fuck.” _She turned to her right, to the stranger sharing the backseat of the cab. He was resolutely looking anywhere other than the bride who had co-opted his ride. 

Digging into the small bag she had grabbed before her departure from the sept, Brienne retrieved her phone. _Hyle. _“Hi.” 

“_What the fuck was that, Brienne? Where in all Seven Hells _are_ you? Do you know how _embarrassing _that was, to watch you run away from our own _fucking _wedding?” _

Beside her, the stranger stiffened. Brienne turned her head to the left, trying to keep her conversation as private as possible. “I’m sorry. I am, truly. I just need…_time. _To think.”

_“What could you possibly have to think about? You think there’s a massive queue of people wanting to marry you, Brienne? There’s not. I’m the only one who’s ever going to agree, Brienne, and you know it.” _

She clutched the backseat; fingernails digging into the leather. A hand pressed atop hers, squeezing ever so slightly. Brienne’s head shot to the right, and to the reassuring smile of the man beside her. “I told you what I need, Hyle.” 

The stranger gave her a half-smile, and another squeeze of his hand. There was a pause on the other end of the line as her fiancé formulated his response. “_Okay, okay. Why don’t you head back to the flat, take some time for yourself? I’ll give you some space; there’s no use letting the honeymoon package go to waste.”_

“What a cunt,” muttered the stranger; his first words since telling their driver to _step on it. _Brienne could not agree more. 

“Hyle, I paid for the honeymoon. All of it: the flights, the resort, the drinks package.”

“_But you don’t like resorts, Brienne. You’re not the kind of girl to sit by a pool all day.”_

She clung to the stranger’s hand for comfort, waiting for him to pull away; stare at her as if she was mad. But he didn’t. He just held on. “And what does that say about us, Hyle, that you made me book a honeymoon I would _hate_?” Brienne drew in a deep breath. What was she _doing_? “You know what, Hyle, I’m done thinking. Goodbye.” 

And at that, she ended the call. 

“You did the right thing.” Brienne scoffed. Anyone who knew her would think she was mad for ditching the only man who had ever been genuinely interested in her. “I mean it. I’ve just got out of an abusive relationship myself. My ex used to say a lot of the same things to me; used to get her way _exactly _how your ex just tried to. _You did the right thing, _Runaway Bride.”

She snorted. “Brienne. My name’s Brienne.” 

“Jaime.” He dropped her hand, only to offer it. She shook it in introduction. “Your ex _was _right about one thing. You shouldn’t let that honeymoon go to waste.” 

“Flight’s in a few hours. I can’t drop everything—”

“—you were going anyway.” The stranger – Jaime – smiled as he leant back against the leather. “The tickets, reservations; all in your name?” She nodded. “You’ve got your passport on you?” Another nod. “So, go. Text your parents; your bridesmaids. Get away for a while. Believe me, I wish I could.” 

There was a bitterness to this tone that belied the gentleness of his touch. “How long have you and your ex been broken up?”

Jaime looked at his watch. “How long have we been in traffic? Add another five minutes onto that.” 

Her eyes widened; immediately softening at the man beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad it’s over. And you will be, too, when you’re by a pool in—”

“Volantis.”

“—_Volantis, _and visiting the beaches, and exploring all that _history. _Catching a flight over to Old Valyria.”

Brienne beamed. “That’s _exactly _what I wanted to do! But Hyle—” She cut herself off. “That’s exactly what I’m _going_ to do. See all the historical sites; all the museums. Visit Old Valyria and watch them demonstrate working with Valyrian steel.” 

“Good for you. I’ve always wanted to go myself. See?” Brienne turned towards Jaime; he was showing her his crimson tie and a tie clip in the shape of a sword. In the shape of Oathkeeper. “It’s about as close as I can get to Valyrian steel, but it’s something.”

“You should come with me.” 

Jaime leaned away; brow furrowing as he no doubt replayed her words. Brienne was doing the same. “Are you serious?”

She thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes. I have two tickets. A hotel room with all the amenities. It’s a whole world away from here, and I think we both could use that.” And he had been kind, and he wore an Oathkeeper tie clip, and there was the same look in his eyes that Brienne had seen in the mirror before she had left to walk down the aisle. The need to _escape. _

_“_Okay then. Let’s go to Volantis.” As the traffic cleared up ahead, Jaime reached over to address the driver. “Change of plans; take us to King’s Landing International.” 

As he settled back in his seat, they shared a warm, if bemused, smile. Two strangers, escaping together. When they returned to this city in two weeks, Brienne hoped they would both be of clearer mind and soul; ready to face the aftermath of the end of their relationships. Perhaps, when they returned, they would each have gained a friend, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	119. "Negative Thoughts" - Brienne meets with Ramsay Bolton, and Jaime shares a secret. (Telepathic Brienne)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Telepathic Brienne and Jaime meet with a client, and she can hear their thoughts, and he's a bad dude, and Brienne needs to tell Jaime to drop him, but can't tell him why...." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven’t quite decided how I want to expand telepathic!Brienne (at this rate, it’ll all be in prompts), but I felt this was a good time to write this important milestone in Jaime and Brienne’s relationship. This gets a little dark in places (Bolton; Aerys) so be warned. But I hope you enjoy all the same.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

Brienne didn’t wait for the three men around the table to give their acknowledgement of her departure. She just scraped her chair back along the carpet, stumbling as she stood, and practically sprinted for the door. Brienne didn’t even bother to close it behind her as she ran. She pushed past colleagues and clients until she made it to the ladies room. Banging open a cubicle door, Brienne dropped to her knees and threw up what remained in her stomach. 

_Mother protect me. Oh, Gods. _

It had now been over two weeks since the attempted mugging had left Brienne with the ability to hear – and now, on occasion, _see _– people’s thoughts. It was intrusive, and annoying, but after two weeks Brienne had grown used to the apathy her colleagues showed towards her; the disregard people on the street gave her. She had not, however, grown used to the unbridled affection her boss had for her – albeit, only in his head. Nor, had she been prepared to sit opposite their potential new client, one Ramsay Bolton, currently awaiting trial for murder. 

She dry-heaved into the bowl. So many thoughts. So many images. _Stranger save me. _

There was a knock on the cubicle door. _I hope she’s okay. _Pia. “Ms Tarth, is everything okay?” _I hope Mister Lannister didn’t upset her again. _

“It wasn’t him,” Brienne croaked through the stall door. “It was the new client.”

_He gave me the creeps, too. He probably did it n’all. _Oh, Pia was right on that front, and so much more. “Shall I tell Mister Lannister you’re feeling unwell?” _I’ll tell him Ms Tarth’s moon’s blood has come. That always freaks a bloke out; won’t ask any more questions after that. _

“Please don’t, Pia.” Brienne winced, resting her head against the cubicle wall. “Just tell him I’ve got food poisoning and I won’t be able to continue the meeting.” 

“Of–of course, Ms Tarth.” 

The paralegal left Brienne, but not alone. What she had seen in Ramsay Bolton’s head stayed with her, haunting her. _Fuck. _How could they _defend _such a man? How could she, willingly, stand up beside Jaime in court and ask a jury to consider this man _innocent? _After all the thoughts she had heard; the things she had _seen_? Somehow, _someway, _Brienne would need to convince Jaime to not take Bolton on as a client. Not an easy feat, despite Jaime’s affections for her. Outside of his thoughts, he still held in her in great contempt. 

But she had to try. 

Brienne stayed in the cubicle as long as she dared. Since the recent spate of dismissals, morale was at an all-time low, and her colleagues were staying only as long as they had to. There was only a couple of paralegals and the cleaning staff lingering on the floor when she emerged and made her way to Jaime’s office. She rapped her knuckles twice on the door. 

“Mister Lannister?”

_Brienne? She can’t still be here. I thought she’d fucked off for happy hour with Renly. After all, she can barely stand the thought of working with me. Running out of that meeting; food poisoning was such a pathetic excuse. FINE, let’s get this over with. If she wants to run back to Renly, then let her. _“Come in, Ms Tarth.” 

Brienne pushed open the door, closing it firmly behind her. The only light in the office was the lamp over Jaime’s desk; it caught in the amber of the whisky he was drinking, and the silver flecks in his beard. _She looks like all Seven Hells. Maybe Pia wasn’t lying; maybe she _did _have food poisoning. I should fire that paralegal, what’s his name, Payne, for bringing her contaminated food. _“What can I do for you, Ms Tarth?”

“I would like a word about the Bolton case.”

Jaime snorted. _Of course, she does._ “You mean the case you ran out on, embarrassing not only yourself but me and the firm as well?” 

“I—” She swallowed. _You can do this, Brienne. _“I’m afraid I won’t be able to assist in Mister Bolton’s defence.”

“Oh?” _Here we go. She’d rather be Renly’s lackey than actually practice law with me. _“And why is that, Ms Tarth?”

“He’s guilty. He murdered that girl.”

_Of course, he did. _“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of _course_, it matters!” Brienne said, half-shouting. But her shoulders sagged as Jaime sat, unmoved by her words. Of course, it wouldn’t matter. Not to _him. _“Why am I even bothering? I wouldn’t expect you to understand morality.”

“Ah, the Aerys Targaryen defence. I expected better from you, Ms Tarth.” _I did, Brienne. I really did. If only you knew. _

Brienne frowned. “Knew what?” 

Jaime’s forehead creased. “I didn’t—” He waved her away with the hand still clutching his drink. “Get out, Tarth. You can go back to your _precious _Renly tomorrow. I’m done with you. I’ll find someone else to work the case.” _Not that anyone else _wants _to work with you. You’re the man who fucked over a senior partner to advance his own career. Never mind that he was_**_—_**

“What?” 

He shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘what’? Get out, Tarth. Didn’t you hear? I’m done with you.” _You’re done with me, more like. _

Jaime drained his drink, stood up from his desk, and approached the large, picture window overlooking the city. Night encroached upon the sky; blue giving way to purple and black, and the first light of the stars. Jaime’s fingerprints smeared the glass as he pressed his hand to it; as if trying to reach out to the city below. _I am so tired of being a monster when all I ever wanted to be was a knight. _

Brienne just stared. In all her encounters since developing this new ability of hers, no one had surprised her more than Jaime Lannister. First, his feelings for her. And now Aerys Targaryen. There was something more, she knew it. Brienne could stand here and let him think it. But a part of her wanted to hear the truth from his own lips. 

“I’ve never defended anyone who was guilty before,” she began, uncertain whether this was the right thing to say. She would find out soon enough. 

“Your precious Renly doesn’t like working on cases that keep him up at night.” _It’s why I get stuck with the Ramsay Boltons and Walder Freys of the world. And Aerys, although no one knew about him. _

“What was your first?” _What is she still doing here? _“Please. If you want me on this case, I need to know I’ll be—”

“—supported?” Jaime turned from the window; wildfire burning in his eyes. “You are not _supported, _Brienne. You are left with rules and legislation and a _verdict, _and the rest is on _you_. The faces of the victims’ families in court. Crime scene photographs you can never quite forget. Knowing you’ve let another monster out onto the street but you can’t say a _fucking _thing because your mentor – the man _joking_ with these _butchers _– does everything in his power to get that _win_.” 

“Aerys.”

_Aerys fucking Targaryen. The King of the Courtroom; the Dragon himself. The things he did…fuck, why am I even bothering? She doesn’t want to know. No one ever has. _But Brienne did. She crossed the room and encircled Jaime’s wrist with her fingers; selfishly playing on his affections in the hope that he would open up to her. “Tell me.” _She’s touching me, why is she touching me; can she feel how fast my pulse is racing? _“Tell me, please. I want to know.”

He nodded; throat bobbing. “All right. I was a lot like you, once. The golden boy of a senior partner. Aerys took me under his wing to spite my father; he’d started the Lannisport branch, took half our business to the Westerlands, you see, and Aerys _loathed _him for it. So he brought me to King’s Landing and made me his protege. I worked on so many cases. The things I saw…” _The things I saw. _

Brienne squeezed his wrist as the thoughts in Jaime’s head became images. A filmstrip of depravity. “He was accused of bribing and blackmailing witnesses. But I knew the truth. About the houses that burned down; the businesses that went up in flames. That detective from the North, Brandon Stark, who _mysteriously _disappeared. Aerys was good. He knew how to cover his tracks; none of that would ever come back to him. The witness tampering charges were all they had. All_ I_ had.” 

“So you mishandled his defence.”

“He was arrogant. Asked me to represent him rather than my father.” _You should have seen the look on his face, Brienne. _“But it was his undoing. I did _just _enough for the jury to convict him. By the time people questioned my defence, he’d been transferred to a mental ward.”

Brienne’s fingers fell from Jaime’s wrist, unsure what to say. She knew it to be true. She knew _everything_, yet she still had to ask: “Why have you never told anyone this?”

Jaime swallowed. “I’d thought about telling my father. But I didn’t want to hear him tell me it didn’t matter. _Of course, it matters.” _He closed his eyes. _You were right, Brienne. You were so right. I don’t think I can go through this again. I can’t represent that monster. I’ll call them tomorrow; tell Bolton and his father he’ll have to find other legal counsel. _Opening them, he turned to her.“Well, at least you won’t have to represent a man you know is guilty, Ms Tarth. Bolton and his father didn’t think we were the _right _choice of counsel for them.” 

“Oh.” She wet her top lip, formulating what to say next. “Well, then. I guess me storming in here was for nothing.” _Not for nothing, Brienne. You have no idea how good it feels to have told someone that. You have no idea how good it feels for someone to look at me and not find me wanting. “_Perhaps, tomorrow, we can consider a new case? I would like to continue working with you.” 

“All right.” _She wants to work with me. Not because Renly is an arse or because she hopes to curry favour with Father. Brienne wants to work with me because of _me. _Okay, you can savour this moment at home; let the poor woman go already. It’s late. _“Goodnight, Brienne. “

“Goodnight, Jaime.” 

_She called me Jaime. _The joy in his voice carried Brienne out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	120. "Wifey" - Teenager Jaime Lannister finds out he's already promised to one of his classmates. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "High School arranged marriage that is some good stuff! So fascinated with this idea and need more." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I’m quite taken with the idea myself. I hope you enjoy!

The town car pulled up in front of Hayford Academy on a cloudy Monday morning; two lions sitting in the back with their crimson luggage ready for another week where they could be neither seen _nor _heard. A feat his brother had yet to accomplish, as Tyrion jabbed a finger at the tinted window and pointed to another student being dropped off. 

“Look, Jaime, there’s your fiancée.”

Jaime followed his brother’s finger to the statuesque blonde emerging from her father’s car. He slumped down in his seat lest Brienne Tarth catch sight of him. “Tyrion, sit back down–_no, _don’t _wave._” 

“You should be nicer to your future wife, Brother.” 

“_Ugh, _don’t remind me.”

Jaime and Tyrion had spent the weekend at the Lannister townhouse in King’s Landing rather than stay at their stuffy boarding school. Over the five-course dinner on Saturday evening, however, their father decided to impart some _important _information upon his eldest son. _Apparently, _Jaime had been promised to the daughter of Tywin’s business partner, Selwyn Tarth, since he had been barely old enough to walk. Now he and Brienne were nearly of age, Tywin had decided it was the appropriate time to tell both of them of their future union.

He’d argued, of course. To no avail, _of course_. He wouldmarry Brienne Tarth, and that was _that_.

Nodding at Lorch as he and Tyrion grabbed their belongings, Jaime watched Brienne haul her and another student’s suitcase up the stone steps. He couldn’t believe he was going to have to marry _that. _Brienne Tarth had an inch on him, if not more. They were the same build; their hair was even around the same length. Guess he would have to be the pretty one in the relationship. In their _marriage. _Seventeen years old, without a serious girlfriend or even a proper _kiss _under his belt, and already Jaime knew he’d spend the rest of his life waking up to _her. _

“I’m serious, Jaime,” Tyrion said as they passed under the Hayward archway; Jaime’s eyes unable to leave Brienne’s form the entire walk. “You should be nicer to Brienne. It’ll only pay off later.”

“But that’s the problem, Tyrion; I don’t want there to _be _a later.” 

Huffing, Jaime left his brother to catch up with his friends. Most of their peers were heading to the dormitories to unpack after a busy weekend at home. But not Brienne Tarth. She was already at her locker, getting the books and folders she would need for a busy day of receiving an education she would have no use for. Her life, like his, had been planned out for over a _decade. _They would both work for the family business. They would both go home to a house _together._

_Fuck this. _

Grunting, Jaime approached and slumped against the locker beside hers. “Hello, Wifey.” 

A muscle twitched in Brienne’s cheek. “Lannister.” 

“I take it your father told you about their little…_arrangement._”

Brienne’s glare was icy enough to rebuild the Wall. “He did. I’m surprised you’re going along with it. Thought you would rather marry whatever Jeyne, Alys or Alysanne took your fancy.” 

“Father made it clear that if we didn’t…_you know_—_” _Marry. _Fuck, _he was going to marry this girl. “—then I would be cut out. No trust fund when I turn twenty-one; no inheritance when he dies. Think of it this way, Tarth, at least you know what you’re worth, now: twenty-eight million gold dragons.” 

Her locker door slammed shut, and suddenly there was a large, forceful hand pressing against his chest. He could feel the heat of her through his shirt and blazer. “You think I want this? You think I want _you_? The only reason I’m going along with this is because of my father. Do you know what _you’re _worth, Lannister? Not a _fuckin_g halfpenny.” 

Brienne pulled away. She grabbed her bag and suitcase, scowling at his grin; so unfazed was he by her little show of force. He waggled his fingers. “Bye, Wifey. I’ll save you a seat in Essosi Languages.”

All he got in response was another scowl and the stop of her shoes against the linoleum floor. Tyrion was right about a great many things, but not this. Being nice to Brienne wouldn’t get him anywhere. Being the arsehole only a seventeen-year-old rich boy could be, however, _could _get him out of this engagement. All he had to do was push. Jaime wouldn’t lose out on his trust fund; Brienne would find someone who _maybe _thought that blonde, ocean-eyed rugby players with long legs were _attractive. _Everyone was a winner. 

Just because they pretended to get married when they were seven did _not _mean they had to spend the rest of their lives as husband and wife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	121. "Wrist" - While looking at venues for his upcoming wedding, Jaime gets his soul mark. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "PROMPTING BOTH! HS arranged marriage and wedding planner soulmate AU! Both sound fab!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I’m really trying to regain the energy of having fun with what I write, and mixing up tropes like this is a lot of fun. If you missed it, I wrote HS arranged marriage is Chapter 120. I hope you enjoy this!

“What’s going on with your wrist?”

Jaime stopped the scratch of his fingers against his shirt sleeve and frowned at his brother. “I’m not sure. I think it’s the new watch Mel bought me. Maybe I’m having a reaction to the metal.” He shrugged. “I’ll take it off when we get inside.”

“I still don’t know why you had to drag me along to this.”

_This _being visiting a number of wedding venues for Jaime’s upcoming nuptials to Melara, his sister’s childhood friend and his partner for the past three years. “I told you, Mel got called into work, and the wedding planner needs a decision so we can finally book a place. Mel’s already seen them, so I just need to sign off.”

Tyrion raised a single eyebrow. “And you couldn’t have seen them by yourself?”

Jaime cleared his throat, diverting his gaze out the window lest his brother draw conclusions that had _no _basis in reality. “No. And we’re here.”

The first of three possible venues was the Dragonglass Hotel. As Jaime stepped out of the car and onto the kerb, he knew instantly that this was not the place. The building was all sleek glass and modern furnishings; the foyer minimalistic, the colour scheme lashings of black and red. The two Lannisters looked entirely out of place. As did their wedding planner in a crisp blue shirt; the corner of her collar misfolded, the only error in her otherwise immaculate ensemble. 

“Mister Lannister!” Brienne called out, waving her hand to get his attention. As if she hadn’t caught it already. “Did you find the venue okay?”

“Your directions were, _as always, _precise. Right down to the traffic lights.” A fine pink flush formed across Brienne’s cheeks. Jaime grinned. “Mel couldn’t join us; got called into work. This is my brother, the best man. Tyrion, this is our wedding planner, Brienne Tarth.”

“A pleasure.”

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Jaime took in little; he was too concerned by the persistent _itch _at his wrist. He ran his nails along the skin, hoping to provide a modicum of relief. _Nothing. _He would have to take that damnwatch off, throw it in a drawer, and hope Mel never asked after it so he wouldn’t have to explain that a token of her affection was causing him such irritation. 

Suddenly, Jaime felt someone tug at his jacket sleeve. He looked down to see a girl, no older than seven, look at him with bright green eyes. She presented her wrist. “I got mine today, too.” 

“That’s not—”

“—Jaime!” He jerked his head to his right, where Tyrion and Brienne had already made a few steps forward. “We’re heading off to see the event room now. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.”

With one last scratch to his wrist, Jaime joined his brother and Brienne in the direction of the Dragonglass event room. His thoughts, however, drifted back to the little girl waiting to check out. _It was just the watch. It couldn’t be–not after all this time_. Most received their soul marks upon their seventh nameday; a matching one forming upon their soulmates wrist. But not everyone was so lucky. Some were not made for love; some were not ready for it. When Jaime’s hadn’t appeared, he had tried to see it as a blessing. He could choose whom he loved, rather than it being forced upon him. 

_But we don’t get to choose who we love, _Jaime thought, _and my other half might finally be ready for it. _

It could still be the watch. It _had _to be the watch. He was getting married in seven months, and he _loved _Melara. Taking in a deep breath, Jaime recommitted himself to exploring wedding venues. He drew close to Brienne and peppered her with questions about the reception; the space for dancing; the capacity for guests to stay in the hotel itself. Talking to Brienne was a great help: he was refocused on his wedding _and _the itch on his wrist began to lessen. _See, _he told the doubting portion of his brain, _it was just the watch. _

“And we’re here!” 

Brienne swept open the doors to the event hall which was, in essence, a big glass box. Light flooded the room; the view over the Bay spectacular. Jaime could, in some way, see the appeal. Modern, spacious, full of light. But it was also very…_nothing. _

“You’re not happy.”

Jaime huffed, catching Brienne’s pointed gaze. “Is it _that_ obvious?” 

Brienne tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “On occasion. Ms Hetherspoon liked how much light there was; she was considering filling the room with flowers. Obviously, with a guest list as significant as yours, the room would accommodate all five hundred guests.”

“Yes, while they sweat through their tuxedos and dresses.” Jaime pulled at his collar. 

Beside him, Tyrion dragged a crimson handkerchief across his brow. “You could raise orchids in here.”

“There are _some _downsides to this space,” Brienne admitted. Jaime still marvelled at her ability to find some good in _everything, _even this room. “But if you’re not happy, Mister Lannister, we can move onto the next space. Although, if I may—”

“—you may,” Jaime grinned. He liked when Brienne went off-book. 

She flushed. “I was thinking we could look _outside _the city. Somewhere with lots of light and picturesque views for Ms Hetherspoon. Somewhere with history and character for you, Mister Lannister. The grounds of a castle, perhaps.” 

Jaime beamed. A castle. _Yes, _he liked the sound of that. They had struck lucky with Brienne as their wedding planner; she understood both of their wants and needs much better than he could have ever anticipated. Just then, his wrist began to itch anew. _Fuck. _“If you’ll both excuse me, I just need to check out the hotel’s _other _facilities.” 

He left Brienne and Tyrion to discuss alternative venues (Harrenhal was a possibility; Casterly Rock was _not_) while Jaime sought some privacy to claw at his own wrist. He undid the fastenings of his watch as he walked but still found no relief. In the quiet of a cubicle, Jaime saw why. His soul mark had finally arrived. A golden lion clutching a sapphire in its mouth. _Fuck. _

His soulmate was finally ready for him to love them. If only he hadn’t agreed to marry someone else first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	122. "Inspection" - Jaime and Brienne pretend to be married to get an amazing apartment. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "FAKE DATING ROOMMATES YES I WANT THAT PLEASE" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE MASHUP WEEKEND CONTINUES! Hope you enjoy.

Brienne Tarth was standing on the veranda of their penthouse apartment, sifting through yesterday’s post, when she came across a letter from their landlord. She glanced at the contents, eyes widening. “JAIME!”

“WHAT?”

She strode back inside to what they’d affectionally labelled _the tourney ground_: a second-floor space that led onto the veranda, with enough room for a couple of bookshelves, a well-used pool table, and two antique broadswords that hung upon the wall. Her flatmate, Jaime Lannister, was stretched out across the table; leaning over to sink a crimson ball in the far pocket. Brienne kept her gaze fixed upon the far wall rather than stare at her best friend’s toned arse. 

“Jaime, did you open this letter?” 

He sunk the ball. “If it’s open and you didn’t, then probably.” 

Brienne swatted him with the envelope. “It’s from the _landlord, _Jaime. They’re giving us notice for an inspection. _For_ _this morning._” Brienne checked her watch. “In half an hour, actually. And if you don’t want to go back to living in Flea Bottom, you’ll help me get this place ready.”

Jaime immediately dropped the pool cue. “I’ll get the wedding rings; you get the pictures.”

Leaving their pleasant morning quickly behind, Jaime and Brienne jumped into action. Their penthouse in the Quiet Isle apartment complex was _beautiful_: two spacious bedrooms, two bathrooms (each with a shower _and _tub), a well-lit kitchen and a living area overlooking King’s Landing. To say nothing of the second-floor veranda and the on-site gym and pool. After a string of miserable and often disgusting viewings, this had _finally _felt like home. And the price was well within a secondary school teacher and an assistant curator’s budget. 

The catch? They had to be _married _to rent the apartment. 

So, Jaime and Brienne had pretended to be married. They’d got Jaime’s brother to dummy up a marriage certificate, bought a set of rings at a local pawn shop, and paid Brienne’s friend Margaery to take some photographs of them as a couple. It was, perhaps, a _little _overboard, but you either won the property game, or you were left in a one-bedroom with a black mould and loud neighbours. 

“Got the rings!” Jaime called out from the kitchen. He shoved the golden band onto his finger before producing a matching one and an engagement ring inset with a small sapphire. “Brienne, will you—”

“—we don’t have _time_,” she huffed, taking the rings from Jaime’s outstretched hand and slipping them on. “We wouldn’t have been rushing had you actually told me about this.”

“It slipped my mind, alright? I was busy marking all last week, and every essay just kept making me angry.” He tucked the boxes back inside a kitchen drawer. “I mean, what fifteen-year-old doesn’t know _why _Goldenhand killed the Mad King?” 

Brienne sighed. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“You never listen to me, Brienne. I don’t know _why _I married you!”

Jaime was grinning when she threw a cushion at his head, and she squealed when his hands tried to grab at her waist. But, sadly, there would be no pillow sparring today; time was running out, and there was still so much to do. Brienne subsequently brought out all their fake photographs: a wedding photograph of her and Jaime; a string of casual pictures on the university campus and the museum; one even of Jaime proposing. Although they’d been friends for five years, and had a multitude of polaroids and discarded lock screens between them, they had needed something that said _couple. _

On the other side of the flat, Jaime was clearing out all relevant personal items from his – officially the _spare _– room. A few clothes; the two photographs Jaime kept by his bed. The stuffed lion his nephew Tommen had given Jaime to keep him safe when his twin’s family moved back to the Westerlands. “I think that’s everything.”

Brienne scrambled over and poked her head into Jaime’s room. “What if she asks why your clothes are in here?”

“I need a lot of cupboard space,” he fired back, carrying his things into Brienne’s bedroom. “She won’t ask, Brienne. I doubt she’ll even notice.” 

Brienne frowned, wishing she shared Jaime’s optimism. But she remembered Mrs Roelle from when they’d signed the lease; the _looks _she had given the pair of them, and the litany of questions as if they were on trial for murder rather than renting an apartment. “Flea Bottom, Jaime. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“Fine.” He waved around the boxers he slept in. “Which side does your husband sleep on, Mrs Lannister?”

Brienne faltered; cheeks flushing. “Mrs Lannister sleeps on the–um–the left. So Mr Tarth should sleep on the right.” 

“Good to know.” Jaime shoved his crimson boxers underneath the pillow. Ser Pounce, Tommen’s stuffed lion, sat on top. “I’ll need books for my side. Some marking as well.”

She nodded. “I’ll put an extra towel out in the bathroom. Or would his–and–her bathrooms be better?” Brienne wrung her hands. “Definitely his–and–hers. You have so many products it’d take us twenty minutes just to move them.”

“Hey!” Jaime then huffed, inclining his head. “Alright. I’ll give you that.”

They made the last few alterations to Brienne’s – to _their_ – bedroom until it actually looked like Jaime slept beside her. As the dreaded hour arrived, Brienne moved to wait by the front door. But then she caught Jaime digging through her bedside cabinet and the box that had remained unopened since they’d moved into their first flat together. 

“Aha!” Jaime brandished a condom as he would a sword. “Perfect.”

“What are you—”

“—just toss that there,” he said to himself, throwing the torn wrapper into the bin and stuffing the unused condom in his jeans pocket. Jaime then turned to her, grinning, before closing the distance between them. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her close. “I’m just playing the part. We’re a young, married couple, Brienne Lannister. We have loud, _enthusiastic _sex regularly.” 

Her eyes briefly glanced towards the bed with Jaime’s sleepwear stuffed underneath one pillow, his scent lingering in the air, and was accosted by images of her best friend atop her; fingers buried between her open thighs and his mouth on her breast. The warmth of Jaime’s hands on her skin did little to help the jump in her pulse, and the reemerging of thoughts she had long thought gone since the early days of their deception. 

Just then, there were two curt raps upon the door. “I should get that.”

“_We _should get that,” Jaime said, his hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans. “Now, remember, you’re madly in love with me.” 

If only she could forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	123. "Sugar" - Brienne meets a potential sugar daddy, Jaime Lannister. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Beautiful knifeears had an idea in her blog and in case she is too shy to submit it herself I’ll do it for her: Brienne as Jaime’s sugar baby. I MEAN ITS CANON THAT GIVES HER GIFTS AND MONEY!!!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I’m never one to shy away from a challenge. Apologies, @knifeears, if this is not what you were looking for.

Brienne hesitated outside the door of the _Golden Knight Grind; _once again questioning the decisions that had brought her here. She could get another parttime job. Sweet-talk her landlord into giving her yet _another _respite on her rent. Perhaps a brief loan just to get over the next few bills. But, in her heart, Brienne knew she’d exhausted all those options already. 

Why would she be here, otherwise, about to meet a sugar daddy?

Her retrospection was interrupted by a fellow student needing a caffeine fix; their shoulder smacking into Brienne’s as they hustled their way through the front door. _Right. _That’s what people usually did. A tentative hand grasped the handle and pushed inside. Brienne was overwhelmed by the scent of caramel and coffee; the chatter of patrons and the click-clack of laptop keyboards. She scanned the coffee shop, looking for goldenhand_28 amongst the crowd. 

Brienne spotted him sitting at the back. 

_Fuck. _The photo he had sent on sweetener.com had _not _done him justice. goldenhand_28 – or Jaime, as he preferred to be called in the real world – was _beautiful. _Dark blonde hair cut short; a chiselled jaw covered in a beard with flecks of gold and silver running through it. He was well built, with a charming smile, and everyone from the waitstaff to the customers was entranced. And he was here to meet _her. _

Jaime raised his left hand in greeting. When she approached his table, he stood up and pressed his lips to her cheek. “There you are, Sweetling,” he said with a voice like honey. “I thought you weren’t going to show.” 

“I might have been having second thoughts,” Brienne admitted as she took the seat opposite. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

Jaime’s smile was warm. Too warm: her cheeks were flushed; her complexion now a mess of ruddy skin and too many freckles. Jaime didn’t seem put off, however. In fact, he leant forward. “If it helps, I haven’t either.”

A waitress appeared at their table. Jaime already had a coffee in front of him, yet the waitress didn’t look to Brienne for her order. “What can I get you?”

A broad hand gestured in her direction. Brienne toyed with her bottom lip as she mentally went through the money in the purse; the change in her car. _Not enough, not enough, not enough. “_A glass of tap water will be fine.”

Jaime’s forehead furrowed, and those beautiful lips fell into a frown. “Can you give us a minute?” he said to the waitress and, after she took her leave, leant across to Brienne once again. “You’re not used to asking for the things you want, are you?” 

She bristled at his tone. “And I bet you never have to ask; they’re just given to you.” 

He grinned. “Most of the time. I was lucky enough to be born into a family with more wealth than I can ever spend. My sister’s bought vineyards; my brother a boat or three. I’d like to buy your time and your company.”

“Why me?” 

When Brienne had signed up to sweetener.com, she’d noticed the other potential sugar babies were prettier; delicateflowers to be wooed with jewels and clothes and rent payments. The handful of men who _had _propositioned Brienne had left her uncomfortable. But then she’d seen goldenhand_28′s profile. _Let me be your knight in shining armour, _he’d written, and Brienne had thought, _just this once, _she could let someone else fight her battles for her. 

That, however, did not answer why the most attractive man on the site – _nay, _in Westeros itself – had chosen _her. _Jaime just shrugged. “I’ll be paying for your time and company, Brienne. I’d rather have an animated discussion with you about the museums we visit or the games we watch than have someone just nod their head and agree with everything I say.”

“Oh.” Brienne fiddled with an errant strand of hair. “So, how would this work? What–what would you expect of me?”

“Not _that.” _Brienne was both relieved and disappointed. “I’m after companionship, Brienne. Some level of physical intimacy: cuddling, hand-holding, conversation. I have a very demanding job, and I need someone who can give me what I need when I need it. And, in exchange, I’ll give you what you need when you need it.” 

The waitress returned at that point. With Jaime’s encouraging smile, Brienne asked for what she wanted. “A Dornish breakfast tea and a chocolate chip croissant.”

“There you go.” After the waitress left, Jaime slipped his left hand inside his jacket and retrieved a cheque book. “You mentioned online that you were behind on your rent?”

“Jaime—”

“—how much?” he asked, tapping an expensive fountain pen against the paper. “I could buy a bottle of whisky or I could ensure my companion has a roof over her head for another month. _How much_?” 

“Six hundred.”

He spluttered. “For a one-bedroom in Flea Bottom?” Jaime sighed and wrote the cheque anyway. “I’m sure we can find you some more appropriate accommodation.” 

Jaime slid the cheque across the table. Brienne stared at the numbers; relief washing through her. She wouldn’t have to beg Tarly to give her her job back at the bookshop. She wouldn’t have to plead with her landlord for leniency. She wouldn’t have to return to Tarth with her tail between her legs and a half-finished degree. And all that Jaime asked from her was a little physical intimacy. In fact, he even stretched his right hand across the table for her to take. There was a momentary flash of confusion as her fingers brushed silicone, but she didn’t flinch or pull away. 

Across the table, Jaime smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	124. "Puncture" - Vampire Jaime finds a different way to feed from his wife. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm gonna need that Vampire!Jaime AU. All the fic and headcanons. *Dracula Voice* I want to read your fiiiic..." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I shouldn’t play favourites but, Anon, I think you’re my favourite. The Dracula voice is making me really giggle. ANYWAY, here is the supernatural + forced marriage mash-up, as requested. It’s dub-con, although nothing really sexual happens. Just a heads up. Hope you enjoy!

The battle between the Crown and the North waged on; the vampires of the Westerlands still unable to knock the wolves back to the Wall where they belonged. As Ser Jaime moved through the Lannister camp, a dour mood clung to the air. Their victories were few and far between, and they had lost many men in recent days. The mortals who served House Lannister took the falling night to find some hours of slumber. The undead amongst them sought blood to replenish; they would need all their energy for the battle ahead. 

Hence why Jaime returned to his own tent, and to his maiden wife. 

He parted the tent flaps, expecting to find the Maid of Tarth with that permanent scowl etched upon her features. Instead, he found her with the maester; tunic discarded and the collar of her muslin shirt pulled to one side. At Jaime’s arrival, the maester quickly stumbled to his feet and bowed. His wife, however, threw him a sullen glance and stole away into a corner of the tent. 

“Is something wrong, my lady?” he asked her back. Receiving no answer, Jaime turned to the maester. “What ails my wife so, ser?”

“It’s her throat, my lord. The wounds are struggling to heal.” 

Jaime’s gaze darted to the corner; to his wife with a broad hand pressed to her neck. With fearsome speed, Jaime closed the distance between them and tugged her hand away from her throat. Her other came up to strike him, but he held that down, too. “Now, now, Wife, enough of that.” Their first meeting, upon the battlefield, Brienne had tried to drive a wooden spear through his heart. Now his fingertips brushed the line of her jaw. “_Let me see.” _

Brienne tilted her head back so Jaime could witness her ravaged neck. The skin was mottled; purples and blues where he had been too forceful in his feeding. Some puncture wounds had begun to close; others were unable to heal. No wonder Brienne had called for a maester. His wife must have dreaded his return from the battlefield; his urge to feed. Jaime ran his thumb across the most recent marks. _Fuck. _He’d never truly seen himself as a monster. But he saw a monster in those blue eyes. 

“Forgive me, my Lady.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she spat. “I am nothing more than a decanter of Arbor Red.”

“You are my _wife,” _Jaime hissed. “If I wanted nothing more than a drink, I’d have a handful of camp followers with their throats bared.”

A meagre smile graced Brienne’s mouth. “But we both know why you drink from me.”

On the battlefield, a wooden spear in his shoulder, Jaime had smelt the innocence on her. A mortal of pure heart and body, thrust into a war because of misguided affections. He’d spared her life in the hope that he would drink from her; drain her in celebration of their victory against Renly Baratheon. But Tywin Lannister had seen an opportunity. The Tarths had been kings, once. With the Baratheon line waning, they could recover power. One brief moment with a septon and a union between the Westerlands and the Stormlands had been secured. One brief discussion between husband and wife and a bitter agreement had been forged. 

Until the war was over, Jaime would drink the potency from her veins. Afterwards…the Gods would decide. But for now, another battle was upon them, and Jaime needed to feed. “Maester, is there anything we can do?”

“It is possible to still feed from her—”

“—_no,” _Jaime growled, earning a flash of surprise from Brienne. _I am not entirely the monster you think I am, Wife. _Still, he required sustenance. “Is there another place from which I can feed?”

Before the maester could respond, Brienne thrust her wrist into his face. “I would suggest here, my Lord, as a gentleman would.”

“As your _precious _Renly did.” The wounds had long since healed, but the small white scars upon her wrist remained. “I don’t think so, my Lady.”

“I am not surprised. After all, you are no gentleman.” 

“No, just your husband, and I _will _have my fill. As promised.” 

“Then _do _it. Drain me already and leave me for the crows. Your father has not the stomach to win this war, and I have no desire to spend the rest of my remaining days as your meal on legs.”

Jaime smirked. “But _what _a meal you are. And those _legs.” _His eyes swept Brienne’s form; lingering on her muscular thighs, firm torso. He remembered another spot from which he could feed. A place _far _too intimate for their arrangement, despite having sworn themselves in front of the Seven. But as Jaime did not wish to hurt his wife or feed from another, he was left with no other choice. “Maester, you can leave us now. My Lady, please remove your breeches and small clothes. Sit atop the table.” 

“You’re not—”

“—_please. _Do you think I’d so ruin the taste of you?” He began to unfasten his own tunic. “Undress, my Lady. The sooner I feed, the sooner you can get back to plotting your revenge.”

“_Fine.”_

Her pulse thrummed in his ears as she undid the laces of her breeches and removed her smallclothes. Brienne then sat atop the desk; hands clenched around the edge of the wood. The tension was evident in her large frame, and a part of Jaime wished to soothe her. He dropped to his knees and tried his best. 

“I have no desire to touch you, Brienne. Just taste you.” 

A slight press to her knees encouraged her to widen, to accommodate him between her spread legs. Jaime averted his gaze from the thatch of blonde hair and pink folds; instead, he concentrated on the expanse of milky skin and the rush of blood he could feel underneath the surface. The pad of his thumb swept across her flesh; Brienne gasping at the contact. He bent his head, beard brushing against her inner thigh, and sank his fangs into her skin. 

_Gods, _there was nothing as sweet as maiden blood. Pure and rich; Jaime pressed his hand to Brienne’s other leg as he suckled at her thigh. It felt salacious to feed from her here; her cunt so close to his lips, his tongue. But Jaime knew he would not be welcome; knew his feeding was only tolerated in exchange for his help in obtaining revenge against those who had slain her _dear _Renly. 

Yet, when Brienne’s fingertips carded through his hair and tightened, he almost dared to ask. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	125. "Takeout" - Jaime treats sugar baby Brienne to dinner. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All hail to sugar daddy Jaime! Can I bribe you for more? :)" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You certainly can! This is C&G’s 125th prompt!! Today hasn’t gone as planned, but I’m hoping this story will be the start of a very creative few days before my return to work next week. Happy reading!

Jaime needed noise. A pop song on the radio; mindless chatter from his driver. Something to distract from tomorrow’s itinerary, already forwarded and amended, or the few last-minute emails that required replies _Anything_ to distract from another long, _dull _day as VP of Lannister Holdings. 

But, _nothing. _

His driver, Peck, didn’t even announce their arrival at Jaime’s building, White Sword Tower apartments. The doorman allowed him entry with a single incline to the head. The couple that passed him in the foyer gave Jaime a glance and nothing more. The young woman at the reception desk had no reason to talk to him; all mail and messages were already organised. But he _wanted _noise. After a long day of meetings, emails, contracts, Jaime craved _something _to make him feel human again.

Thankfully, as was true of all Lannisters, Jaime had someone on the payroll for just that. 

In the lift, Jaime pulled out his phone and scrolled to his contact for _Sweetling. _

> _Tell me something about your day._

A pause; three little dots appeared and then vanished. The lift crawled up to the penthouse and, just as the doors opened, a message from Brienne arrived.

> **Sweetling: **Professor Stark gave a lecture about the Second Long Night, and I yelled at one of my classmates when he said no women were fighting in the battle. 
> 
> _That’s my girl. _

Once again, the three dots appeared and left just as quickly. Jaime smirked as he stepped off the lift and fumbled for his door keys. Sweetling, blue_eyes, _Brienne _was a curious thing. A shy maiden sometimes; a bold knight in moments. They had met three times now: their initial coffee date, a lunch between meetings, and a Sunday morning jog. He enjoyed her company, and if it took a rent payment, money for books, and a gym membership to do so, then Jaime would pay it all.

The fact that Brienne rebuffed his attempts each time was just…_adorable. _

Inside the penthouse, Jaime discarded his briefcase and jacket before checking his phone. (1) message from _Sweetling. _

> **Sweetling: **How was your day?
> 
> _I’d rather talk more about yours._

Tossing his phone on the kitchen island, Jaime used his left hand to loosen the knot of his tie. When the two strips of fabric hung around his neck, he checked his notifications to see if Brienne had responded. 

> **Sweetling: **Nothing major. A couple of lectures. Met for coffee with a friend. Now working on an assignment and looking to make dinner. 
> 
> _Oh? What’s on the menu for tonight?_

Jaime looked in his own fridge. A few bottles of imported beer; some eggs and a suspicious-looking takeaway container. He made a mental note to ask Pia to organise a grocery delivery; man could not subsist on jelly beans and chocolate buttons alone. 

> **Sweetling: **Don’t judge me. Remember, I’m a poor student. 
> 
> **Sweetling: **Plain pasta and tomato ketchup. 
> 
> _Oh, Sweetling. _
> 
> **Sweetling: **I said no judgements. And my name’s Brienne.
> 
> _I’m going to buy you dinner, Sweetling. No arguments. In exchange, I get to decide what we watch over dinner._

Jaime pressed send and immediately realised his mistake. From what little he’d read about successful sugar daddy-baby partnerships, boundaries were vital. Despite her lacklustre dinner, Brienne might not want his company or his offer of food. They hadn’t arranged a ‘date’ for tonight; their next one was Saturday afternoon at the museum. While the three dots appeared on his phone screen, Jaime tapped out a quick message. 

> _You can say no, Brienne. I won’t be offended. I understand you may have other plans. _
> 
> **Sweetling: **I get three vetos about what we watch. Do I need to send you my address, or do you still have it?

He did. He fired off a text confirming their date and then got to work on buying Brienne dinner. There were a handful of takeaway menus shoved in a drawer that Jaime had ordered from over the years, ranging from the spice of Dornish dishes to the richness of Myrish food. Jaime just didn’t know what Brienne would prefer. The easiest thing to do would be to text her; enquire as to her preferences. But Jaime didn’t believe in doing things the _easy _way.

So he ordered his favourite dishes from them all.

One quick change of clothes, a single text to Peck to bring the car around, and Jaime was heading off to Fleabottom for an evening of good food and great company. He arrived at Brienne’s building just as the first delivery driver made their appearance. The intercom outside was busted, but someone had used a sugar sachet to wedge the front door open. Hanging his head, Jaime once again considered the prospect of moving Brienne elsewhere. _A conversation for another time. _

He followed the delivery driver up, only to pass another one on the hall outside Brienne’s flat. She stood, framed in the dim light of her open doorway, with a bag of takeaway already in her arms. Her face softened as Jaime approached, only for her forehead to pucker at the sight of even more food. 

“Are we expecting other people?” she asked, as six dishes of Pentoshi takeout were thrust into her arms. 

“Just us,” Jaime said, lifting up on his toes to brush his lips against Brienne’s cheek. He loved the way her face flushed when he did that; an innocence he found both charming and attractive. “I didn’t know what you liked.”

Her teeth toyed with a plump bottom lip. “You could have asked.”

“I could have.” He paused, grinning. “Now, are you going to invite me inside, or are we going to eat in the hallway.” 

“I wouldn’t advise it.” 

The hallway was fucking filthy; a bug scuttled across the floor, muddy footprints decorated the dents in the wall and – _fuck, _was that blood? Jaime didn’t even want to know. Inside Brienne’s flat was a _slight _improvement. The walls were grey, the Fleabottom stench permeated the inside, but it was homey. Photographs and books on the shelves; a weathered sofa with a handknit blue throw. Brienne cleared away her textbooks and laptop from the coffee table and replaced them with the food. 

“I’ll get some plates; make yourself comfortable.” 

Jaime did. Settled himself on the floor and reached for the remote. Brienne had a Webflix account – or, rather, she shared her Webflix account with someone called _Renly. I’ll buy Brienne her own account, _he decided, as he scrolled through her list._ And a new television. _Jaime had just found an action film set during the Dragon Age when the door went again. Three delivery drivers stood on the other side. He took the food and began unpacking it on the coffee table. 

When Brienne returned bearing plates and cutlery, she sighed. “That’s far too much food, Jaime.”

“You can have leftovers.”

“For a _month.”_

He snorted. “Two weeks at best.” Jaime patted the space beside him on the thinning rug. “Sit. Eat. _Relax.”_

Brienne raised a single eyebrow; Jaime leant back on the edge of her sofa, challenging her to disagree with his proposal. She was _stubborn. _Already Jaime knew that Brienne would have eaten plain pasta with ketchup rather than spend money on more food when she had this in the house. But nutrition was important, and if buying two hundred dragons’ worth of takeaway made sure his Sweetling was fed, then he would pay every last halfpenny.

Halfway through the film, both stuffed, Brienne rested her head atop Jaime’s shoulder, and he felt like he had been fed, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	126. "Parent's Evening" - Jaime and Brienne see their cubs' teachers. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "PARENTS AU SOUNDS PERFECT THANK YOU FOR PUTTING THAT IDEA IN MY HEAD please write that" (remuslovestonks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are so welcome. Here, have some family fluff!

Brienne pulled up outside Heart Tree Primary School along with several other cars. Today was Parent’s Evening, and as such, Brienne and her husband had two meetings with their children’s teachers. She was interested to see how Brynden was getting along in his first year at school. She was also curious to know how much property damage Cat had done, now in her third year. 

An expensive SUV pulled into a spot three cars down. A tall, well-dressed man with golden hair stepped out of the driver’s side before offering Brienne a wave and a goofy grin. _Her husband. _After waving at his wife, Professor Jaime Lannister (of the Winterfell University history department) reached into the back to free their one-year-old from her car seat. Joanna was bundled up against the Northern cold in a knitted Lannisport City hat and scarf.

“I keep telling you, our children are Tarth FC fans,” Brienne said as she joined her husband and youngest by their second car. She adjusted the hat over her daughter’s ears. “So, ready to run the gauntlet?”

“Do we _really _have to?” 

“It’s important, Jaime.” She took their daughter from his arms, cradled Joanna with her left, and held Jaime’s hand with her right. “I take it Tywin Lannister didn’t do Parent’s Evening?”

Jaime snorted. “Any problems and my father would simply write a cheque. Pushing a girl down a flight of stairs?” _Cersei. “_Cheque. Get caught running an illegal smuggling ring of chocolate and coke?” _Tyrion. _“Cheque. I imagine Cat has continued on the family tradition.”

Brienne shook her head softly as the three of them walked into Heart Tree Primary to find their other children. Back when she had been this age, Brienne could never have imagined the life she would now lead. Between her peers and her septa, Brienne had always assumed she would never marry; never have children. Never find anyone who loved her. And then, on her first day at Winterfell University, she met Jaime. It took a while, of course, to get to the _love _part. But when they did…_oh, _when they did. 

Successful careers. A healthy, happy marriage. Three beautiful – if somewhat boisterous – children. Brienne was very lucky indeed. 

“Mum! Dad!” 

They caught up with Brynden and Cat in the cloakroom. Jaime threw Brienne a glance; Brynden’s teary face and Cat’s bloody knuckles were hard to hide. Her husband knelt by their son and produced an embroidered crimson handkerchief and dabbed at his son’s face. Brienne bent down and pressed a kiss to Cat’s hand. Passing Joanna back and forth, they got their older children cleaned up and ready to face the world. 

“Okay, which classroom first?” Jaime asked the assembled sapphire lions.

“Mine!” Brynden said, waving his hand. “This way, Daddy. We did art today; I drawed a lion!”

Jaime grinned. “Did you? Did you draw his mane?” A large hand ruffled Brynden’s hair. “Did you…draw his big teeth?” At that, one of the eminent history professors in Westeros opened his jaws wide. “What about his tail?” 

As her husband prepared to waggled his bum, Brienne just sighed. “Jaime.” 

“_What_?” 

Thankfully, Brynden’s teacher had nothing but complimentary things to say about their son: sweet, polite, creative. He was a pleasure to have in class, and they didn’t have to get out the cheque book _once. _Cat’s teacher, however, was another matter entirely. This was the first time they had met Ms Westerling, and they clearly made an impression on the young teacher. _Well, _Jaime did. She practically did a double-take when he walked into the classroom. 

“Thank you so much for coming in, Mister Lannister,” Ms Westerling said as she shook his hand. “It’s so important for fathers to be involved in their children’s lives.” 

Jaime blinked. “Well, um, we _both _are.” 

It was at that point that Ms Westerling realised that Cat’s mother, Jaime’s _wife, _and the head curator of the Northern Heritage Museum was in the room. She finally shook Brienne’s hand, although not nearly as long or as firmly. “Thank you both for coming in. Shall we sit?” 

And so they did. Brienne sat. Jaime made sure he was holding their youngest. Yet, even the presence of their _third child together _didn’t dissuade Ms Westerling from her flirtation. “She’s _beautiful,” _Cat’s teacher cooed. “Looks just like you, Mister Lannister. Or can I call you Jaime?” 

“Mister Lannister’s fine. And all our children look like Brienne.”

“_Oh._” Ms Westerling shuffled some papers around. “Let’s talk about Cat. She’s a bright girl; full of potential. We _have _had some issues with bullying.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “Cat’s a bully?”

“No, _no, _she’s…” Ms Westerling trailed off; instead, she found herself distracted by Jaime bopping their little cub on the nose with the ends of her scarf. “You know, it’s just _so _wonderful to see a man good with children.”

“Can’t be that good if our eldest is a bully,” Jaime shot back, lifting his gaze from their daughter and baring his teeth like a lion about to devour its prey. “If you wouldn’t mind, Ms Westerling? Both my wife and I have had long days, and I’d like to get my pride home for dinner.” 

Two pink spots appeared on Ms Westerling’s cheeks as she stammered through explaining that Cat was _not _the bully, but in fact, protecting other children. As the teacher went onto discuss the work that Cat had been doing this term, Jaime reached over and took Brienne’s hand, lifting the back of it to place a kiss to her knuckles. She flushed in the stuffy air of Classroom 3B, and bowed her head to hide her beaming face. 

No cheques on Parent’s Evening. Marrying for love. They were breaking _all _sorts of Lannister traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	127. "Bike Ride" - Jaime and Brienne take their children out on a Sunday morning. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "modern parental fluff please!! the parents evening fic melted my heart and made my (pretty bad) covid anxiety drop considerably, so thank you! may i request: j&b pregnancy fluff (feeling the baby kick, going to the first sonogram etc) or maybe a cosy morning fic with the kids? like they run into their room and wake them up or smth?🥺" (sapphiretarth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad my Modern Lion Pride helped with your cov anxiety; I’ve been suffering today myself and it is not fun. Here is some weekend morning fluff for you!

“_Why don’t you go in first?”_

_“You’re older; _you _should go in first!”_

Brienne stirred at the whispers of their children outside the bedroom door. Cracking one eye open, she could see their shadows moving underneath the frame. It was Sunday morning, which meant a Lannister-Tarth bike ride through the streets of their Northern suburb. It also meant two eager children wanting their parents up and dressed so Daddy could make pancakes afterwards. If only Mummy didn’t want five more minutes in bed. 

Settling back against the mattress, Brienne nudged her husband in the side. “_Jaime.”_

“Before seven, they’re Tarths,” groaned her husband, face mashed into the pillow. 

Sighing, Brienne’s arm snapped out to grasp the clock on her bedside table. _7.02 am. _She nudged her husband’s shoulder with the clock and gathered the sheets up around her neck. “It’s after seven. Check on your cubs.”

“_Our _cubs.”

“Only after seven, apparently.”

Despite her desire to get a few more minutes of sleep, Brienne did not give in to her urge to slumber. Instead, she watched her husband pad across their bedroom floor and wrench the door open, startling Cat and Brynden; both in pyjamas but already wearing their bicycle helmets. Rather than direct them to get dressed and brush their teeth, Jaime gathered their son in his arms and carried him to the bed, while Cat jumped on the mattress. _So much for more sleep. _But as her daughter cuddled up to her side, Brynden talking nineteen-to-the-dozen about how fast he could ride his bike, Brienne found herself wide awake and unable to miss a moment. 

Shortly after, however, Joanna began to stir in the nursery. Brienne slipped from the bed, leaving Jaime to avoid being headbutted by their son, and went to check on their youngest. She was awake, all wide blue eyes and bobbing feet; staring up at the mobile of swords and shields that Catelyn’s daughter, Sansa, had made. It had been passed from Cat to Brynden and now Joanna. Their grandfather had tried to foist all manner of toys upon them; Jaime’s twin had given them her own children’s hand-me-downs in an act of both charity _and _mocking. But this was more_ them_. 

Lifting their daughter from the crib, Brienne cradled Joanna while their other cubs raced past on their way to the bathroom. Jaime draped himself across the nursery doorframe. “Two lion cubs off to brush their _big _teeth. How’s the little one? Think she’s ready to come out?”

“I’m not sure.” Brienne turned to their daughter. “What do you think, Jo? You ready to join Daddy on the bike?” Joanna burst into a wide, toothy grin; a mirror image of her father. “I’d say that’s a yes.”

It didn’t take long for the Lannister-Tarths to get ready. Faces washed, teeth brushed, bodies dressed, and they were out the door. Cat and Brynden were already wheeling their bikes from the garage when Brienne’s feet met the pavement. 

“Mum,” Cat began, kicking the tyres of her red and gold bike. “I think Honor’s tyres need more air.”

“Hmm.” Brienne knelt down beside the bike and checked. “Yes, I think you’re right. What about you, Brynden, how’s Glory’s tyres?” Her son squeezed the tyres of the white and silver bike and shook his head. “Alright. Cat, go get the foot pump. But don’t touch anything else this time, alright?”

Brienne made the executive decision _not _to call out her daughter on her blatant eye-roll. She had been reminded during her annual Friday night call with her father that Brienne’d had her own fair share of mishaps in her youth. The white scar bisecting her upper lip had been due to a biking accident along a rocky footpath. Her broken arm had been in the quest of a crown (or a suitable alternative), and an unstable chest freezer. Factor in Jaime throwing himself off the cliffs of Casterly Rock as a child, and it was lucky they weren’t on first-name terms with the maester in A&E.

Just then, Cat returned with a grubby face and the foot pump, hoisted above her head like a battle trophy. “I’VE GOT IT!”

Brienne went about pumping up Honor and Glory’s tyres while Jaime, Joanna nestled in his arms, locked up the house. “Now, you two, this is the first time we’re _all _going out on the ride. Including Joanna, okay?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Now, your father’s going to have Joanna on the back of Chestnut, okay?” The children nodded. Jaime had bought Brienne Chestnut during the _friendship _part of their aquaintance, when she needed an easier way to get to classes. She had never named the bike, but the children had insisted. All the best bikes had names, after all. “So stay close, don’t speed off, and keep your ears open in case we have to stop, okay?”

Two golden heads nodded. “Good. Now, let’s get ready to go.”

Cat mounted Honor; Brynden Glory. Jaime and Brienne buckled Joanna into the baby seat they’d bought specifically for Chestnut, and the small blue helmet that looked so big for their little cub. As Jaime slung his legs over the bicycle, he turned to Brienne. “Are you _sure _you don’t want to ride with us? Next door probably has a bike we can borrow.”

“I’m sure,” Brienne said, stretching out her arms before reaching down to stretch out her leg muscles. “I like jogging.”

When she rose to her full height, her husband’s head snapped back out front. Despite the crisp air, Brienne’s face flushed as she realised her husband had been checking out her arse. A single eyebrow, countered by a smirk. “You’re probably right not to get back on the bike. Your arse is _far _too toned, anyway.” 

“Start riding, Lannister.” 

“Why do you _only _say that when we’re outside, on a bike, and _never_—”

Brienne pointed a finger at her husband, who threw his head back, laughed, and began pedalling down the street. Her trainers thumped against the pavement as she kept pace with her family, and a new Sunday morning tradition was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	128. "Childcare Emergency" - Professor Jaime brings his three cubs to class. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Modern Lion Pride! Modern Lion Pride!" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

“Sorry I’m late, everyone; there was an emergency.” 

Professor Jaime Lannister, author of several distinguished articles and books about the War of the Five Kings and regarded as the foremost expert on Goldenhand the Just, entered the lecture hall with two small children and a baby carrier. His usual impeccable demeanour was replaced by a rumpled suit, a damp brow, and a scowl etched into the lines of his mouth. 

“Apologies, apologies,” Jaime reiterated as he crossed the room, deposited the baby carrier and briefcase on his desk, and settled Cat and Brynden into seats on the front row. Bending the knee, he addressed his two eldest. “Right, Daddy needs to give a lecture now, okay? So I need you two to be really good and do your homework quietly, alright?” Two golden heads nodded. He pressed a kiss to the crowns of their heads. “Good cubs.” 

Sweeping to his desk, Jaime unbuckled Joanna from the carrier and held her on his hip. Immediately, his youngest began grabbing at his crimson tie. “Da-da.”

“Yes, that’s my tie, little star,” Jaime soothed, only to be nearly strangled by his daughter’s tight hold. “Okay, no tie today.”

Bouncing Joanna on his hip, Jaime loosened his tie from around his neck, stuffed the fabric into his briefcase, and retrieved his glasses so he could look at the material for today’s lecture. Harrenhal. _Wonderful. _He could give a lecture on Harrenhal in his sleep; had, in fact, during the early days of his relationship with Brienne. He could do this. Lecture with a baby on his hip and two small children on the front row; one of whom had a tendency to get into mischief even in an empty room. 

He was Jaime _Lannister. _He could do this. “Again, apologies for the delay. Minor childcare emergency. Now, in today’s lecture, we will continue looking at the role minor houses played in the War of the Five Kings. Can anyone tell me, from the reading, what castle was occupied by warring sides in 299 and 300 AC?” 

No one. No hands were raised. Joanna, in the absence of a tie, kept pulling at his shirt. Jaime delved into the carrier and found her bear; his daughter immediately clutching at his fur. Still no hands. 

“It was in the reading, everyone. Chapter six. What castle was occupied by warring sides in 299 and 300 AC?” He sighed. “Films have been made. Songs have been sung. _It was in the reading. _Anyone?”

A hand went up. Unfortunately, it was the hand of his seven-year-old. Jaime, still juggling Joanna, knelt down beside his eldest daughter. “What is it, Cat?”

“Harrenhal.”

Jaime stifled the urge to laugh. Instead, he beamed down at his daughter and addressed the lecture hall. “Cat is correct. Harrenahl was occupied by two, and ultimately three warring sides in 299 and 300 AC. The third of these was not one of the major houses in the war.” He looked out onto a sea of blank faces. It was becoming abundantly clear that none of his students had done the reading. “_Fine. _Let’s take it step-by-step. Three warring factions; two major houses, one minor house. Can anyone name me _one _of them?” 

After a few moments of dead silence, a hand rose in the middle of the lecture hall. “Yes, Podrick.”

“The–the young wolf, Robb Stark. He occupied Harrenhal in 300 AC.” 

“Correct!” At her father’s happy energy, Joanna clapped her hands together. Unfortunately, that made her drop her bear. Jaime bent down, retrieved Barty, and pressed it into his daughter’s hands. “Anyone else?”

No hands. _Again. _Jaime was about to send everyone home (his usual punishment if no one had done the reading) when Cat’s hand rose once again. He stepped forward, wondering if this would be a request to go to the loo or if his little lion had more knowledge of the War of the Five Kings than his undergraduate students. 

“Yes, Cat?” 

“House Bolton. They _were _on Robb Stark’s side, but they turned against him.”

“Exactly right!” Jaime grinned. “Come on, everyone, that’s two for Cat and one for Podrick. Has _no one_ else done the reading? Can _no one _else tell me who the other faction was that held Harrenhal during the War of the Five Kings?” 

In the front row, Jaime caught Cat whispering to her brother. Then, after a moment with no other hands raised, his son thrust up his arm. “Yes, Brynden.”

“Grandfather.”

Laughter rippled through the lecture hall. Jaime turned quickly on his students. “Brynden is not entirely wrong. Tywin Lannister, of House Lannister, held Harrenhal in 299 AC. My father is not as vicious as the Tywin of the time, but at least he knows his history. Which is more than I can say for most of this class.” 

Jaime turned his back to settle Joanna into her carrier before rounding on his students. “Because I was late, and because my children are here, I will give you this time to catch up on today’s reading. I will put the slides and notes from today up on Chalkboard so you can read them in your own time. If in our next lecture, you are not prepared, I will dismiss you without a second thought.” Jaime shook his head. “I’m disappointed in all of you. Apart from you, Cat, and your brother. Great work.”

The rustle of paper and the heavy thump of books echoed throughout the lecture hall as his students caught up on their required reading. Jaime answered a few questions from the class – mostly from his two students on the front row, one of whom was having trouble with multiplication. Then, _finally, _the lecture came to an end, and his students slunk out of the room and past a newly arrived Brienne. 

“I’m sorry; there was an issue with a shipment of artefacts, and I couldn’t get away,” Brienne explained as she crossed the room to join Jaime by the desk. Usually, in public, Brienne did nothing more but press a kiss to his cheek. Her lips now lingered against his, and Jaime resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his wife’s waist and hold her close. When they parted, she rested her forehead against his. “How was it?”

“Fine.” He reached up to press a kiss to the line forming across Brienne’s brow. “Stop worrying. Joanna didn’t cry the room down, Cat didn’t set fire to anything, and Brynden finished his times tables.”

Brienne beamed. “Good. _Good_.” As two small children packed up their backpacks, she glanced down at Jaime’s lecture notes. “Oh, _Harrenhal! _Did you know, it’s suspected that a Stark was at Harrenhal long before the Young Wolf occupied it?” 

He did know. He’d read the first draft of Catelyn’s article just last week. But Jaime didn’t say anything. Just enjoyed the light in his wife’s blue eyes as she talked about history as their pride left the lecture hall and headed home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Got a prompt or follow-up request? Prompt me at [ddagent.tumblr.com](https://ddagent.tumblr.com/ask).


	129. "Game of Hearts" - Jaime enters a Bachelor-esque show and meets suitress Brienne Tarth. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m a contestant on The Bachelor, and I’m probably the only one who really fell in love with you as soon as you walked in, but dammit, you don’t seem to like me at all, no matter what I do." (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have become rather obsessed with reality TV AUs of late, so be prepared for a whole bunch of them. I hope you enjoy this one, and my first prompt of April ‘20 (aka the best month, aka my birthday month). Happy reading!

“Are you gentlemen ready to find true love?”

Podrick, who looked barely old enough to drink, let alone be a _producer_, addressed the three men waiting inside the historically inaccurate Dragon Age carriage. The one closest to the door, with a bland face and brown hair, grinned. Another, with a broad frame and a red beard, practically _crowed. _That left Jaime Lannister, sitting as far back as he could manage, to give a brief nod of the head. 

“Sure.” 

And with that, _Game of Hearts _began. It was Westeros’ most popular dating show: one young lady in search of a husband; twenty-one _knights of the realm _looking to be the lord of her castle. Jaime usually changed the channel whenever it came on, even if his brother _was _a producer. But Father had been pushing for Jaime to settle down; throwing daughters of business partners at Jaime day and night. After a night of drinking and complaining, Tyrion had come up with this _ingenious _idea to get Tywin off his back. All Jaime had to do was _act _as if he really wanted to get married on reality television and reach the finals. 

Not hard. With a face like his, a final spot was practically guaranteed. 

As he leant back, letting the evening’s festivities wash over him, Jaime caught the bland man in the corner eyeing him. He raised a single brow. “Can I help you with something?” 

“You’re good looking.” A statement. Not a question. That was coming. “You could get any girl you want. Why bother coming on the show?” 

He shrugged. “I like a challenge.”

“Yeah, _well, _I like money. I heard one of the producers talking; apparently, this girl is _rich. _Heir to some Stormlands fortune.” 

The bland man seemed to come alive at the prospect of his potential wife’s dowry. Jaime just picked lint off his shoulder. She might be rich, but she wasn’t _Lannister _rich. Another shrug. “Guess we’ll see who the better man is.”

A muscle twitched in the other man’s jaw. “Yeah. I guess we will.”

Before something could irreparably tear in the other man’s face, Podrick re-appeared at the door to their carriage. “Gentlemen, we’re nearly ready for you. Before that, I’d like to unofficially introduce you to our suitress. Her name is Brienne Tarth, she’s the curator of the Evenfall Museum, and she’s 32. She is also heir to the Tarth Shipping fortune.” Podrick grinned. “Jaime, Hyle, Tormund: are you ready to meet your future wife?” 

The bland man, _Hyle, _grinned; gold dragons replacing the dull brown of his eyes. The hulk in the corner, Tormund, practically salivated at the thought of meeting this woman. Any woman, probably. Jaime was…_intrigued. _After watching a few episodes to know what he was getting himself into, he had expected the suitress to be a dental hygienist or a student…some kind of consultant, perhaps. As an archaeologist, a museum curator was someone he would actually _want _to talk to. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have to murder his brother after all. 

Jaime _actually _found himself excited as the minutes ticked closer to meeting Brienne Tarth. As Hyle and Tormund tried to imagine the physical attributes of their suitress, Jaime tried to recall what he knew about Evenfall. The Blue Knight was buried in Tarth. There was a pirate exhibit he’d wanted to visit two months before but had been talked into this instead. Ah, _Oathkeeper. _One of the great Valyrian steel swords was on permanent display at the museum. _Interesting. _

“Jaime, are you ready to meet your future wife?” 

This was Podrick’s _sixth _time of asking. But, as the camera pressed into his face, Jaime actually smiled and said, “Yes, I think I am.” 

Jaime was the last to leave the carriage. In the restored ruins of Harrenhal, now the locale for _Game of Heart’s _quest for love, twenty other men stood having already met Brienne. _Best for last. _Adjusting the line of his three-piece suit, Jaime strode as directed by the producers to meet his potential wife. A line formed across his brow as he walked, unable to pick her out from the crowd. There was a tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside the host, Oberyn Martell, but no suitress. 

And then: “Brienne, this is our last suitor for the evening. Archaeologist Jaime Lannister.” 

The tall, broad-shouldered _woman _standing beside host Oberyn Martell turned on the heel of her blue flats. Anything more, and she would have loomed over him. As it was, Brienne Tarth had an inch, maybe two, on Jaime’s six-foot frame. The blue suit she wore betrayed the muscles in her arms and back but did little for her waist or breasts. Her face was far too plain, but her eyes were all the decoration it needed. 

_Fuck. _It made sense that she would be the guardian of Oathkeeper_. _She looked like the Blue Knight. Jaime beamed. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’m Jaime,” he said, wearing that charming smile that had left more than a few women in a puddle on the floor. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Brienne. I think we have a lot in common.” 

A muscle beside those gorgeouseyes twitched. “I’m sure.” 

And that was it. No gushing, no flirting. A curt three words were all that Jaime had been offered. From behind the line of cameras, he spotted his brother conversing rapidly with Podrick. Jaime Lannister – gorgeous, wealthy, accomplished – was supposed to be their showstopper. And Brienne Tarth stared at him as if he was an eight-year-old boy who had been caught touching the exhibits. _Less than that, _even. Cool indifference. 

Well, _fuck _that. Jaime hadn’t even wanted to do this show in the first place, but here he was, and he was going to be in that damn final. 

Taking two steps forward, Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand and rubbed his thumb across her wrist. As she gasped from the contact, he leant forward and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. Tyrion’s hissing stopped, and Jaime could feel every camera trained on them. _Good. _Everyone else thought him charming. It was time Brienne Tarth thought so, too. 

“I’m sure I’m not the first man tonight to tell you that your eyes look like sapphires,” he said; his voice soft. “If I am, then every other man here is a fool.” 

The corner of her mouth twitched, and Jaime thought he had her. “Does that line often work?”

“Only about 10% of the time. Too many people in Westeros have brown eyes.”

“You think you’re charming.” 

“But you don’t.” 

Brienne shook her head. “I know men like you.” 

“There _are _no men like me, Brienne.” Jaime took a step back but still held her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss across the bridge of her knuckles. “Let me show you.” 

Brienne nodded but did not seem convinced. _Good. _Jaime liked a challenge. He’d make her fall _just _enough in love with him to get him to the final, get Father off his back, and then some other knight could propose. Just because she had pretty eyes and a big sword _did not _mean Jaime wanted to win. But those were big eyes. And a _really _pretty sword. 


	130. "Chariot" - Driver Jaime drops heiress Brienne off at her company's HQ. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passenger/Driver AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a JB picture AU

Jaime pulled his car up in front of the Tarth Limited building; the blue-tinted windows shining in the King’s Landing sun. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” said one of his passengers; a tall, striking woman with the bluest eyes Jaime had ever seen. Her companion, a shorter, plain-looking man whose face Jaime wouldn’t be able to pick out of a line-up, said nothing. “Have a good day.”

The woman went to open the rear door, only to find the handle stuck. Not wanting yet another comment about kidnapping passengers and holding them in his back seat, Jaime flung himself out of the driver’s side and opened Widow’s back door. While some (his mother, for example) found calling his car _Widow’s Wail _macabre, Jaime found it suited the faulty door, rusted exhaust, and the tendency for the radio to splutter to life at the oddest moments.

“Sorry about the door,” he offered, allowing the young woman to make her escape. “Have a–have a good day.”

His passenger, who towered over him in heels, accepted his apology with nothing more than a nod before striding towards the Tarth Limited building. His gaze followed her inside; the slight bow of her head betraying a lack of confidence that her height and build should exude. Jaime was interrupted from his musings by his _other _passenger. His phone was out; ride-hailing app _Chariot _on the screen. One star. 

“You can look all you want, but that’s all you’ll ever be able to do. Don’t even _imagine_ you couldget a woman that rich.” The passenger, h_hunt (or _cunt, _as Jaime deigned to call him in his head), sneered as he took in Jaime’s sweatpants and threadbare Lannisport City hoodie. “_Have a good day,” _he mocked. 

As he joined his companion inside, Jaime slid back into the driver’s seat of Widow. He cranked up the new Blackfish track and pulled out onto the streets of King’s Landing; determined to forget all about ocean blue eyes. 


	131. "Drift" - Weary traveller Jaime finds a home at the Tarth residence. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, I'm always up for Surfer AU :))" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by JB picture AU.

Jaime stirred; thin rays of light streaming in through the open window. He looked over at his phone: barely five am. Yet, he could hear the rest of the house stirring. Selwyn, his saviour, was pottering around the kitchen. His daughter, who’s room he had so _callously _taken, was in the spare next door. Easing away the bedsheet, Jaime padded across the floor in the hope of sneaking across to the bathroom unnoticed. 

A loose floorboard betrayed him, and he was met by stormy blue eyes and a firm pout. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Jaime said, gritting his teeth into a smile. There was a welt on his elbow where she’d hit him with a replica sword the night before, thinking him an intruder. “I slept well.”

“I’d imagine so. Custom mattress.” 

Baela, no Betha, _no, _Brienne continued to scowl at him. _Fuck. _Selwyn’s college-aged daughter hadn’t made it clear how long she planned to stay in her childhood home. Jaime’s visit, too, was open-ended: as long as it took to nurse a broken heart and heal years of emotional abuse. With little money, Jaime couldn’t afford to refuse the kindness of strangers. _Just be nice, polite; turn up the Lannister charm. She’ll be putty in your hands in no time. _

“Heading out for a run?” he asked, noticing her baggy Winterfell University t-shirt and shorts. “Bit early for that, isn’t it? Sun is barely up.” 

Her jaw twitched; teeth clenched. “I’m going surfing. Best time of day is at dawn.” Blue eyes flickered to something behind him, and her jaw released into a smile. “You’re welcome to join me, of course.” 

“An excellent idea!” A meaty hand clamped down upon his shoulder. Selwyn grinned at Jaime, and all hopes of returning to bed suddenly evaporated. “I can lend you a wetsuit and a board, lad.”

_You cannot afford to refuse the kindness of strangers. _“Sounds like the perfect way to start the day! Thank you, Selwyn. _Brienne._”

Jaime was used to starting his day on silk sheets, after a long sleep listening to jungle sounds, and a home-cooked breakfast by his housekeeper. Sometimes, his step-sister would visit on the premise of business, and he’d start the day with her mouth around his cock. Surfing at the crack of dawn with Selwyn’s sour-faced daughter was _not _his idea of a good morning. The slightly too-big wetsuit and the cold water didn’t help, either. 

He turned to his companion, hoping she’d take off by herself and not engage him in small talk. Jaime swallowed, however, at the image of Brienne in a skintight wetsuit; the neoprene clinging to the firm muscles in her legs, arms and buttocks. He stood, speechless, until a wave crashed over him and his open mouth collided with wet sand. 


	132. "Wild" - Stable master Jaime observes the lady of the house. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh my god please give me Widowed Stablehand and Lady of the House from your JB AUs part 1 I need this in my life" (remuslovestonks)

****

The wildest thing on Tarth was the Evenstar’s daughter. Jaime knew that for a _fact. _

As Evenfall’s stablemaster, he tended to the horses; kept them well fed and cared for. He accompanied Lord Tarth and his friends and business associates across the wilds and marshes and had seen all manner of creatures. Lady Brienne was still the wildest thing on the island. And while many a young man had come to tame her, no doubt in the desire of her fortune rather than for the plain young woman, none had yet to succeed. 

This afternoon’s suitor, it seemed, had not proven worthy either. Jaime was rubbing down Chestnut when he heard the familiar clomp of Lady Tarth’s footfall. A daintier step accompanied her; Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, no doubt. Jaime slunk further into the shadows of the stables, not wanting either woman – and Tyrell’s wandering hands – to know he was there. 

“I mean, he wasn’t _that _bad.”

His lady huffed and stomped over to one of the stables. Through a gap in the stable door, he saw her pet Glory; Jaime’s own steed. “That’s because he was fawning all over _you, _Marge. He barely looked once at me.”

“That’s not a reason to throw your drink at him, Brie.” 

Chestnut’s neigh covered Jaime’s ungentlemanly snort. The Maid of Tarth; forever untameable. In truth, Jaime hoped she remained so. He doubted any future husband of hers would be so kind to a grieving widower with barely a handful of dragons to his name, especially one with his features and family history. He would be out on his ear before the bedding ceremony would be complete and the Maid of Tarth tamed at last. 

Chestnut butted his head as Jaime’s touch turned tight. He relaxed his grip and tried not to startle when he heard Lady Tyrell call his name. “—and where is that _gorgeous _stablemaster of yours?”

“Oh, Marge, _don’t.”_

“Oh, come on, Brienne, don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it? Those broad hands and muscular arms, laying you down in a bed of hay and riding you like he does these stallions…” Lady Tyrell trailed off. “Are you telling me you haven’t thought of it? Not once?”

“_No.” _There was that clomp again. “Jaime is a good man; a decent man. And he’s still very much in love with his wife.” _Well. I was until she deliberately drove our car into traffic. _“We should head back to the house.”

“If we _must.”_

Lady Tyrell (thankfully) left the stables first. His lady hesitated and, through the gap in the stable door, Jaime watched her. Teeth biting down into a plump bottom lip; cheeks flushed as red as his former house colours. Then, drawing in a deep breath, Lady Brienne departed. Jaime longed to run with her. 


	133. "Interpretation" - Actor Jaime butts heads with the moderator at Storm's End Comic Con. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "hello yes the Television Interview from JB Aus part VI is something I need for my health but also the Staff Photos from that Part" (remuslovestonks)

“Good morning, Storm’s End Comic-Con!” greeted the enthusiastic moderator. Jaime had yet to catch her name; it was all a rush to get him on stage before he had a press interview to promote the first season of _Iron and Gold. _She was a last-minute replacement, anyway; the original coming down with a case of food poisoning. Still, she held the crowd well. “We are joined this morning by actor Jaime Lannister, who is set to play Goldenhand the Just in the new series, _Iron and Gold. _Good morning, Jaime.”

“Good morning,” he said; his sentence punctuated by a brief pause as the moderator’s name refused to come to him. She noticed; her lips pursing into a brief scowl before he pushed on. “I’m thrilled to be here; looking forward to talking in-depth about the show.”

“Good.” She paused; a glint in her eye. “Now, before we open the floor to questions, I’d like to ask one of my own. Jaime, how does it feel to be starring in what is sure to be an absolute trainwreck of a show?”

His mouth fell open. Usually, interviewers or moderators asked him to describe the show in his own words, how he came to get the part; that sort of thing. But this–this _woman _had just jumped straight in. He fumbled, eyes darting behind him to an astonished Tyrion, before beginning a ramble that was sure to end up on social media. “_Well, _the show has yet to air—”

“—and already it’s likely to be a ratings disaster_. _Or were you and Margaery Tyrell hoping your star power and attractiveness would hypnotise the audience into ignoring the incest happening on their screens?”

“Listen—”

“And are you aware of its _huge _historical inaccuracy?”

Of that, Jaime could _comment._ “My character, Goldenhand, did have a decades-long relationship with his sister. The show will explore the romantic aspect of their connection. After all, they were born together, they—”

This–this _woman _had the audacity to cut him off with a raised hand. “The Mad Queen, which will so timidly be played by Tyrell, emotionally abused Goldenhand for decades. He eventually left her, only to return to his abuser after an incredibly traumatic incident. While you claim they died together, there _are _reports that he lived and spent his remaining years under an alias.”

“I–I—” Jaime sagged in his chair. He had been saying that for _months. _Had even pulled out Professor Tarth’s book to prove his argument to the producers, but all to no avail. He was so _fucking _tired. “What do you want me to say? That it’s a ridiculous idea for a show? That they’ve watered down these historical figures so they could have Margaery Tyrell and I film taboo sex scenes on screen?” Behind him, Tyrion let out a string of curses. His focus, however, was on the woman in front of him. “What kind of moderator are you, anyway?” 

The woman just smiled.


	134. "Born Together" - Surrogate Brienne is reunited with her twins, and their father. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh please!!!! Would it be too much to ask of Roommate AU + Single Parent AU where disinherited!Jaime moves in with Brienne???" (anonymous)

Jaime Lannister sat upon her threadbare sofa; an infant in a blue sleepsuit cradled in one arm. With his free hand, he took the offered cup of tea. “Thank you again, Ms Tarth. We, uh, _we didn’t have anywhere else to go._” 

The second babe sat sleeping in her car seat. Brienne resisted the urge to pick up the baby girl, and instead took the armchair opposite. “It’s alright, Mister Lannister. “I am surprised to see you, though. The last time was at the—”

“—hospital, I remember.” 

Brienne had just given birth to the boy swaddled in Mister Lannister’s arms, and the little girl sleeping so soundly. The twins were then hurried away to their new parents, their _real _parents. Because, as their mother had stated on several occasions, Brienne was nothing more than an incubator with working parts. Giving up nine months of her life and an egg to Mister Lannister and his partner was a small price for the future she had imagined: her childhood home rebought and restored. 

Of course, giving them up was harder than she had ever imagined. It was nothing, however, compared to seeing them again. “Your partner—” _Your sister, _Brienne recalled, having found out that titbit halfway through her pregnancy. “—made it clear I was to have nothing to do with the children.” 

Jaime Lannister barked out a harsh laugh. The twin girl in the car seat stirred but did not wake. “That’s funny.”

A wave of dread washed over Brienne. “Why is it funny, Mister Lannister?”

“She–uh–_she doesn’t want them,_” he said in a rush; his fingertips brushing the top of his son’s head. “She wants _our _children. Mine and hers. Never mind the health consequences; the stigma. Never mind that she can’t…” He trailed off. Brienne had heard this speech before when he had explained the truth about _why _he’d hired her. “She doesn’t want them.”

“But they _are _your children,” Brienne insisted; that wave now pulling her under like a riptide. 

“Oh, but they’re yours, too,” Jaime whispered. “Blue eyes instead of green; your nose instead of our mothers. This little one has your ears. My smile, though.” He sagged against the back of the sofa. “She doesn’t want them. And because _she _doesn’t want them, I’m not supposed to want them either.”

A life preserver appeared. “But you do.” 

For the first time since he’d arrived on her doorstep, Jaime Lannister smiled. “I do. I’ve loved them since before they were born, and I will love them long after I die.” His smile faltered. “But my father cut us off. I’ve never seen him so mad; decorum and decency and all that. Last cheque cleared was the one made to you.”

Waves crashed at Evenfall Hall, pulling her childhood home over the cliff and into the watery abyss below. But she would do it if it meant keeping the two babes safe. “I’ll transfer the money back. It’s no problem.”

“No, _no, _Brienne, you _more_ than earned it. I just need somewhere to stay for a few days while my Aunt Genna works on my father. They are hisgrandchildren, after all.” Jaime drew in a breath and held her gaze with his. “I understand if you’d rather not. But, like I said, we have nowhere else to go.” 

Just then, the baby girl awoke. Her eyes settled around the room and landed on Brienne. They were her eyes all right. “Okay.” 


	135. "Pop Tent" - Jaime and Brienne go camping. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “okay I need the Camping AU (from AUs Part X) pretty please thank you love you bye” (remuslovestonks)

Jaime woke up with an erection.

Usually, this wouldn’t be an issue. He’d simply grasp his shaft and cycle through a series of unsatisfying fantasies before he came to the image of arresting blue eyes. A morning shower and then he’d get on with his day. But he wasn’t in his four-poster bed back at Casterly Rock. Nor was he in his dorm room back at Winterfell University. Instead, Jaime was in a tent. On Tarth. The object of his affections wrapped around him; limbs tangled and firm thigh pressed against his stiff cock. 

Well, _fuck. _

_But isn’t this what you wanted? _His traitorous brain reminded him as Brienne puffed hot air against the crook of his neck. _Isn’t that why you concocted this trip; why you so conveniently forgot to pack your tent? _Brienne had not been thrilled with the idea of a camping trip on her home island. She had not been pleased, either, when they had made camp the previous night and discovered that silver spoon didn’t extend to survival skills. But Jaime had hoped this trip would bring them closer. This was too close. _He _was too close. 

So, he did the first thing that came to mind. 

“BEAR!”

Brienne’s hand tightened around his Lannisport City shirt; her head barely lifting from where she had been using his shoulder as a pillow. “Whu—”

Jaime didn’t have time to marvel at how adorable Brienne looked upon first waking. He just yelled, “BEAR!”, flung Brienne to one side, and threw himself out of the tent flap. 

Despite the cold, dewy morning, Jaime’s erection refused to flag. His mind was unhelpful as always as it summoned images of making love to Brienne in the fresh morning grass; the flat of his tongue bringing her nipple to a stiff peak in the open air. Behind him, Brienne gathered her bearings in the tent. With his cock still hard, Jaime grabbed a big stick from the ground and began jabbing at an imaginary bear. 

“Off with you! Go on!”

Behind him, the nylon flaps of the tent opened. “Jaime?”

“Brienne, you just missed it. There was a _huge _bear just outside the tent. But I scared him off.” Brienne bestowing kisses upon him for his bravery did nothing to help tame the beast in his shorts. “But we’re safe now.” _As long as you remain in the tent. _

“Jaime.”

“Hmm?”

“There are no bears on Tarth.”

Jaime twisted his head to stare at Brienne while his pelvis remained firmly aimed at the forest beyond. “Y–yes, there was. Brienne, _truly_—”

“—I know what this is about.” Her voice was _so _soft; punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. _Oh Gods, this is where she’s _nice _about the fact that I’m sporting a pop tent in the middle of a field. She’ll be understanding, but not _understand. _She probably thinks the imaginary bear gave me an erection rather than her. _“I’m sorry, Jaime.” _What? _“I didn’t mean to drape myself all over you. But I’m used to sleeping by myself, and you were so warm—”

“—no, Brienne, that’s not—”

Whatever reassurances Jaime was going to offer died when a clap of thunder startled them both, and all seven heavens opened above. If Brienne saw his erection when he turned around to console her, she didn’t see it for long. The rain was cold and unyielding; Jaime, Brienne and their tent soaked within minutes. 

“THIS IS WHY I DIDN’T WANT TO CAMP ON TARTH!” Brienne tried to shout over the driving wind and rain. But, being a true Stormlands girl, she was smiling throughout. 

Jaime had to agree that this had probably not been his best idea. Finding them a room at a romantic bed and breakfast, however, might be his greatest one yet. 


	136. "Revelation" - Brienne tells Jaime she can read minds (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please can you write another post about telepathic Brienne for pancakes with maple syrup 🥞" (anonymous)

“Mister Lannister—” _Haven’t we moved past that by now? “Jaime_,” Brienne re-started, as her boss and, well, _friend, _began plucking at his bow tie for that evening’s charity dinner. “I truly think you should reconsider Ms Merryweather. I don’t believe she has the best of intentions.” 

“Do you now?” 

“Yes, I do.” Brienne wondered how much she should share. The manipulating, the lying; another pretty young thing who planned to get more than her fair share of the Lannister fortune, and break Jaime’s poor, romantic heart in the process. “Jaime, I know for a _fact _that she doesn’t care about you, just your money.” 

He snorted. “_Brienne,” _he began in that patronising tone as if to soothe a worried child. _Fuck that. _“Taena—”

“—I can read minds.” 

Jaime chuckled. She would normally relish his laughter, but tonight she just wanted to grab his bow tie and choke off the sound. _“_Brienne, if that’s a polite way of saying you invaded her privacy by having one of our investigators snoop through her computer, you needn’t bother. It’s just dinner, and my _dear _father will do enough investigating for the both of you.” _Honestly, Brienne, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded quite jealous._

She drew in a breath. “I do, don’t I?” Jaime’s fingers paused around the ends of his bow tie. His emerald eyes lifted to meet hers. “Sound quite jealous, I mean.” 

Jaime’s jaw fell.


	137. "Proposition" - Connington's son offers his hand to Princess Cat. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "something fluffy" [monaiargancoconutsoy]

“I truly believe, Princess, that our parents were not meant to wed so we could do so in their place.” 

Princess Cat simply stared at Randyll Connington; _marvelling _at the young man’s audacity. “Your father threw a rose at my mother’s feet and claimed she was a beast who would have no more from him.”

Connington’s face flushed a similar colour to his flattened hair. He swallowed, before presenting a single red rose himself. Cat wondered whether he, too, would throw it at her feet, or whether he dared not risk the ire of the Queensguard behind her, or her mother, Westeros’ beloved Warrior Queen. Power overrode most impulses, however, and Randyll stood on his toes to offer the rose in front of her chin. 

“Princess, you have truly been blessed with your father’s beauty. This rose is a _pale _reflection—”

Before Connington could insult her mother further, he was attacked from behind. Saffie’s teeth pierced his rump; the young man stumbling backwards into a nearby pool. Laughter bubbled from Cat’s lips as his offering of a single rose floated helplessly above the water; Connington entangled in his damp cloak. By her side, Saffie growled at the intruder. 

“Good girl.”

Across the courtyard, her mother was unable to stop her own smile. 


	138. "The Bus" - Sugar Baby Brienne tries to get home without Jaime's assistance. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have this super creamy chocolate with vanilla-strawberry filling in my mind :) I would love to read something about sugar daddy Jaime spoiling Brienne with his (extremely expensive) gifts!" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that sounds delicious. I would totally love to add that to my chocolate box. And here we are, some well overdue Sugar Daddy! <3

For once, Brienne was the first to leave after the lecture finished. No enquiries over further reading; no discussion points she wanted expanded. There was simply no time; not if Brienne wanted to catch the six-twenty bus that connected with the seven-ten to Fleabottom. If she missed that one_, _she’d have to wait another hour. And if she missed _that, _she’d be walking home through poorly-lit streets. Certainly not calling Jaime, as he’d insisted. _Brienne, I’d rather pay for a chauffeur than to risk anything happening to you. Please call me next time. _

But she wouldn’t. Brienne felt awful enough asking things from Jaime; she didn’t need to add a personal driver to the list. 

“Excuse me!” she called out as she pushed past a few of her fellow students gathering outside the Humanities building. “Some of us have a bus to catch!”

As she darted past another unmoving group, Brienne reached inside her satchel (pure leather; recently purchased and buffed) for her tattered bus timetable. As she doublechecked her route home, Brienne did not see the group of male students who had gathered at the kerb. She walked smack-bang into one of them and dropped her schedule in a puddle. 

“_Fuck.”_

“Brienne?” 

_No, no, not here. _Looking over, Brienne realised that she hadn’t imagined his voice. Jaime Lannister, VP of Lannister Holdings, was outside her lecture building. Dressed like he had just walked out of a catalogue; leaning casually against the hood of a blue Valyrian convertible. Brand new, too. There was still plastic on the backseats. 

“Thought that was you,” he said, lifting himself off the bonnet to greet her. His lips brushed her cheek chastely before he bent down to retrieve her sodden schedule. He raised a single eyebrow. “The _bus_, Brienne?” 

“I didn’t–I didn’t want to impose,” she said, flushing under his scrutiny.

“I figured as much.” Digging into the pocket of his tailored jeans, Jaime pulled out a set of keys; no doubt to his brand new car. “It’s yours.” 


	139. "Too Loud" - Brienne deals with telling Jaime she can read minds. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just taken out of oven brownies for any telepathic Brienne snippet!" (anonymous)

It was as if this moment was frozen in time. The moment that Brienne Tarth finally admitted she could read minds. Her boss, perhaps, was not the _best _person to confide in. But after the months they had spent working on the Baelish case together, Jaime Lannister was possibly the closest thing she had to a friend. Not the closest thing to one; he _was _her friend. Still, his open mouth and wide, frightened eyes did not alleviate her fear that she would be thrown into an institution – or burnt on a pyre as a sorceress.

“You’re playing with me,” Jaime stated rather coolly for someone who looked like he’d just received an electric shock. _This is a joke, a prank. But what if it’s not? Oh, _fuck, _could she know? _Does_ she know? Oh fuck, she knows, she knows, she can read minds, idiot, STOP TALKING! _

“You’re not an idiot.” 

Jaime let out an unmanly shriek and stumbled backwards. His legs became caught underneath him, and one of Westeros’ most feared barristers landed flat on his arse. Jaime then shuffled away until his wall hit brick. _This can’t be happening; this can’t be happening. Quick, what number am I thinking of? What colour? Oh, Gods, does she know I read historical romance novels during my lunch break? She probably knows more than that, idiot. She probably knows that you imagine—_

“Jaime!” Brienne snapped, cutting off his thoughts as she cupped her hands over her ears. “Too loud.” 

“You think covering your ears will help?” _She looks scared. I’d be scared, too, if I could hear everyone’s innermost thoughts. And here I am, treating her like she’s something to be scared of. Like she’s some…_freak. _She’s not. She’s kind and sharp and amazing and I’ve never told you that before, have I?” _Brienne shook her head. Jaime’s shoulders sagged. “Come here, Brienne.” 


	140. "Dreamland" - Brienne tries to determine whether her night with the Maiden was a dream. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I send you a spinach-blueberry-banana smoothie to help with your iron levels! 🥬🍌🥤(If you are in the right mindset to write about God of Love Jaime, that would be amazing, but absolutely not necessary)" (notjanebond)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the smoothie! And I miss God of Love Jaime SO MUCH! I hope you enjoy this snippet.
> 
> This is a follow-up to [Offering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133110).

The morning after Brienne Tarth was eaten out atop an altar by the Maiden himself, she returned to the sept looking for answers. To reassure herself, perhaps, that the previous night had been nothing more than a dream. The humiliation had been real; a litany of social media posts was more than enough proof of that. But the after? The meeting of a God, the promise of service, the act of oral sex in a holy place…that _had _to be a dream. A hallucination; a fantasy amplified by anger and alcohol. Brienne knew, truly, that she would find no signs of her tryst with the God of Love within these walls. 

“Good morning, my child,” the septon greeted as Brienne entered. “Do you require any assistance with your prayers this day?”

“No, thank you, Septon.” 

Brienne pushed past the old man and headed down the centre aisle. Candles and offerings to the Seven were all still in place. The pious had come for morning prayer, and no one stole a second or even first look as she passed by. Her gaze inevitably drifted to the Maiden’s altar. Flexing her fingers, Brienne could still feel the grain of the wood; the golden thread of Jaime’s hair as his mouth encircled her clit. But there was nothing out of place; no sign of what her mind had told her had occurred. 

Brienne wasn’t sure whether to be content or disappointed that it had all been a dream. 

“Disappointed,” answered a voice from behind her. “_Definitely _disappointed.”

Brienne spun on her heel and collided with the firm chest of the Maiden. Of _Jaime. _He wasn’t in the decadent robes of the previous night; instead, he wore a plain white button-down, jeans, and bare feet against the stone floor. His hands steadied her tumble; once again placed firmly upon her hips. A thrill ran through Brienne at the memory of the night before: being lifted, being touched, being pleasured. Sensing her thoughts, Jaime grinned and lifted a hand to caress her cheek. His thumb swept over her open bottom lip. 

“Have you come here to give yourself to me, Brienne?” he asked; his voice sweet and dripping like honeyed fruit. 

“I—” His fingertips were drawing circles on the bare skin of her hip; his eyes dark and wanton with lust. All Brienne wanted to do was say _yes. _Let him bed her; be his forever. But then her phone vibrated with a ten-minute alarm for her 9am lecture and reality quickly slipped back into place. “I can’t. I–I have a class.” 

And then she fled. 


	141. "Shopping" - Sugar Daddy Jaime proposes a shopping trip. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A giant chocolate sculpture in the shape of a swan, swimming on a lake of cream, next to a riverbank with strawberry flowers growing from chocolate fudge soil, in return for a snippet of Sugar Daddy!Jaime taking Brienne clothes shopping. :)" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Anon, I am now SUPER hungry and in desperate need of chocolate. I approve of your offering; here are some words.

> **Mister Jaime Lannister:** Feel like a spot of shopping?

His text came through just after Brienne had fought with her shower for the umpteenth time. As she rubbed her barely washed hair, Brienne responded in the affirmative. Shopping with Jaime could mean anything from clothes to books to antique broadswords. He’d usually buy her something, too. Lots of things, to be honest. Jaime had a big wallet and a big heart and he loved to spoil her. 

Maybe she could ask him to buy her a new shower unit. 

After Jaime replied back with a string of nonsensical emojis, Brienne dressed and waited outside her Fleabottom flat for the familiar Lannister town car. Soon enough, Peck pulled up to the kerb and opened the rear door for her. Jaime was inside with a takeaway cup of tea and what looked like freshly baked croissants. 

“Morning, Sweetling,” he grinned; his pet name for her both grating and stomach-fluttering. As she crawled into the back seat, his freshly shaven cheek pressed to hers. Brienne enjoyed his affections, although she did prefer the bite of stubble as his lips touched her skin. “Sleep well?”

“Fine, thank you.” Brienne busied herself with picking apart a croissant rather than let on she had been dreaming of Jaime the previous night. Their lunch date where he had removed ketchup from her bottom lip then sucked his thumb clean had sent her nocturnal thoughts into a tailspin. “So, shopping?”

Jaime nodded. “Clothes shopping. The House of Flowers is the best boutique in all of King’s Landing. Personal shopper; only a select few allowed in at any one time. Everything is tailed on-site, too.” 

“I’m sure it’s _hideously _expensive.” 

Jaime brushed a fleck of lint from his charcoal grey shirt. “Barely a drop in the ocean, Sweetling.” 

To Jaime, spending thousands of dragons on a new wardrobe was nothing more than using the spare change found in the footwell of his car. He probably didn’t have to worry about a dodgy shower unit – most likely, Jaime had a rain shower or a clawfoot tub in his apartment. Putting aside her hopes of a new shower, Brienne, instead, focused on what good the day would bring. Namely, getting to sip champagne as the most handsome man in Westeros undressed for her. 

“What’s the first thing on the list?” she inquired, wanting to show interest. 

“Jeans. Shirts. Jumpers, too, just in case this winter isn’t as short as we want it to be.” He grinned. “Exercise wear. Nightwear, too. A couple of dresses, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Brienne was about to respond that she had no problems if Jaime wanted to wear dresses; in fact, he definitely had the legs for it. But looking at his sly grin as he broke off a piece of pastry, Brienne realised she had the wrong end of the stick. They weren’t shopping for him. No, Brienne would be the one trying on ill-fitting garments while Jaime sipped champagne as the ugliest woman alive undressed for him. 

_Fuck. _


	142. "Long Engagement" - Teens Jaime and Brienne struggle with their arranged marriage. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm offering the whole Willy Wonka's chocolate factory stock for your high school arranged marriage :)" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your offering is acceptable (not going to turn down a chocolate factory). Here are some words!

Jaime Lannister sat at the large, mahogany dining table studying Westerosi history with his fiancee. Lifting his head from the squiggle of words in front of him, he watched as Brienne took a gulp of her lemonade and made sure to place her glass squarely back on the lion’s head coaster. He continued to watch her: the tap of her pen against her bottom lip; the slight crease around her mouth as she struggled with a paragraph. Then those blue eyes were upon him, and Jaime’s gaze shot to his textbook instead. 

“Do you want a refill?” Jaime asked in the painful silence of the room. 

Brienne’s glass was barely empty. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

They both sat; unsure of the other. Jaime’s attempts to annoy Brienne into breaking their engagement had backfired tremendously: his father had threatened to withhold _all _his inheritance, and Selwyn had said he was _disappointed _in Brienne for even considering such an idea. So here they sat: unwilling to discuss what was required; providing a vision of a dull, loveless future. 

“We shouldn’t worry about it.” Jaime assumed Brienne was talking about the homework. “The wedding. Our—” _Marriage. _“Dad said it won’t be until after we’ve left university. We’ll both be twenty-two, then. Five years is a long time. We just shouldn’t worry about it.” 

A wave of relief crashed over him. Brienne was right: five years _was_ a long time. Father and Selwyn could fall out; the business could go under. Other matches could be made. There was no need to worry about it until their engagement was announced and their families actually began planning their nuptials. 

And then, as if the Gods could sense his relief, the doors to the dining room opened and in swept his Aunt Genna. She brought with her numerous folders, a laptop, and two assistants. ”Ah, there’s the happy couple.” 

Brienne bristled. Jaime swallowed his own discomfort before kissing his beloved aunt on the cheek. “To what do we owe the pleasure? You’re usually in Lannisport this time of year.” 

“I am, Rabbit, but not when there’s so much to plan!” A thick binder thumped onto the dining room table. Genna began flicking through the pages. Septs. Invitations. Cakes. Dresses. “And only five years to do it in!” 


	143. "Silence" - Brienne can no longer hear Jaime's thoughts. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please could you write a follow up to Telepathic Brienne where JB are slowly becoming friends (for an offering of a dark chocolate fudgy brownie)" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not going to say no to a brownie (they are my kryptonite). Here are a few paragraphs of telepathic!Brienne forming a friendship with Jaime.

For the first time in _months, _Brienne couldn’t hear what Jaime Lannister was thinking. 

No snide comments that didn’t quite match the kind, big-hearted thoughts in his head. No lingering thoughts about his apparent feelings for her; steeped in so much longing it made her heartache. _No, _Brienne couldn’t hear a single thing. From _him, _at any rate. Every other person was singing, _screaming _their thoughts as they walked down a well-shaded street in King’s Landing. But not Jaime. She wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to achieve it, but his story had mentioned a carnival, his sister pushing her best friend into a popcorn stand, and a healer of _dubious _credentials. 

Truly, though, was Jaime’s three-eye tea any more ridiculous than Brienne being able to read minds in the first place?

At least she was able to walk alongside him and just _talk. _Right now they were discussing whether Lannisport City had a chance to win the championship while her friend and boss eyed a gelato stand on the corner. Jaime wet his top lip before averting his gaze. “We should probably head back to the office.” 

“What if we had ice cream instead?” 

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “Did you—” He looked so concerned that his remedy had failed and she could once again read his thoughts. Brienne didn’t have to be a mindreader to know why; his incessant questions on _when _this talent had begun said it all. He was embarrassed, _ashamed _of his previous crush on her. Jaime had no need to fear. As far as he was concerned, she had no clue. 

“No,” she replied; Jaime’s shoulders sagging in relief. “But I’ve…I’ve _watched _you. I know when you want something.” _Like me. _“Like that ice cream. It won’t hurt for us to get a cone on the way back to the office.”

“I—” Jaime swallowed. Suddenly Brienne was desperate to hear him; desperate to know why he refused to allow himself such a simple pleasure. Instead, Brienne was left in silence. “It’s fine. We should head back, though. Got that client meeting at three.” 

The walk back was so quiet Brienne wanted to scream. 


	144. "Sparkline" - Queen Brienne and Hand Jaime look over social media. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I offer you some milk chocolate with salted grilled almonds (my absolute fav) for some modern queen Brienne and her very devoted Hand if you have any to spare 💕💕" (idkwhatusernameishouldtake)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, they’re a fave of mine, too! Here’s a few paragraphs for you.

As the Queen’s Hand, Ser Jaime Lannister received a daily briefing from all members of the Small Council regarding policy, personnel, etc. The Master of Social Media, an overly-polite nineteen-year-old, had begun emailing him news articles from gossip sites about the Queen and her Council. _Is this the Gayest Small Council Yet? _had elicited a detailed update regarding LGBT legislation from the Master of Law. A fashion blog kept track of all of Olenna’s outfits and rated them up to seven Tyrell roses. And, _of course, _the fairytale of Queen Brienne and Renly Baratheon was splashed everywhere. 

There was, unfortunately, one _other _trend in the media that Jaime did not care for in the slightest. 

“_Nineteen Reasons why Hand Jaime Lannister is the sexiest politician in Westeros,” _Brienne teased as Jaime entered her office. The Sparkline article was open in her browser; a topless photograph found on his brother’s social media reason number one. “And then there’s the one about your beard.” 

Jaime ran a hand over his face as he slumped into his familiar seat beside Brienne’s desk. “Ah, _yes. _I saw that article.”

“They suggested you should call it _Ovary Killer.” _A clear riff on _Oathkeeper, _the ancient Valyrian sword that hung in the Queen’s office. It’s sister blade hung in his own. He’d like to take it to his laptop most days. Over her screen, Brienne caught Jaime’s eye and grinned. “The press is rather fond of you.” 

“As they are of you, Your Grace. You and…_Renly.” _

At the mention of his name, a shadow passed over Brienne’s face. Her attention stole away to her laptop, and to the series of links provided in Podrick’s briefing. “Did you–did you happen to see that _other _article?” 

“I did.” 

_Queen Brienne and Ser Jaime: A Love Story in Fourteen Pictures. _It had been posted to Sparkline by a freelancer; nothing more than a series of pictures of them together with various captions detailing _heart eyes _and _friends to lovers. _It hadn’t been picked up by the main page, according to Podrick, or other sites. They preferred the fairytale angle of Brienne and Renly. The commenters couldn’t fathom why Westeros’ sexiest politician would want to kneel (in more ways than one) in front of his Queen. There was no issue, here. Other than there being fourteen pictures where every pixel showed their affection for each other. 

“Number five.” A paparazzi photo of them taken at some grandiose event. Jaime was carrying her heels while her head rested atop his shoulder. “I’d like it framed for my office.” 

Warmth slowly spread through his extremities, as it always did in Brienne’s presence. “At once, Your Grace.” 


	145. "Golden Thread" - Jaime and Brienne discover they are soulmates while he is her prisoner. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For the date writing meme....April 16 😊" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 16th: “Enemies to Lovers” + “with soulmates”

Staring at the length of rope binding her to the Kingslayer, Brienne of Tarth was struck by a sudden, amusing thought. It was, perhaps, unkind of her to state. But after a stream of remarks regarding her appearance, those she would seek for her marital bed, and her talent at swordsmanship, Brienne had no qualms on reminding Ser Jaime Lannister _exactly_ where he stood. 

“It’s alright, you know,” she stated, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Kingslayer. “You’re taking it out on me because you’re upset.” 

“Of course I’m _bloody _upset,” he snarled, bound hands tugging at the rope. “I’ve been held hostage for almost a year, and now I’m chained and _walking _to King’s Landing with the most boring woman in Westeros.” 

All Brienne could do was smile. “You’re upset because you’ve realised you and your sister don’t belong together.” 

At that, the Kingslayer paused. “What do you know of my sister and I?” 

“I know that if she was your soulmate, you wouldn’t have been able to leave her side.” Brienne tugged on the rope between them. “No golden thread.” 

At that, the Kingslayer paled; his eyes sharp. “You know nothing of my sister and I. You know nothing of _soulmates. _We consumm—”

“—is that what she told you? Only a septon can break the thread when he ties your hands together. You and your sister _fucking _means nothing.” Brienne nudged him forward. “Come on.” 

The Kingslayer spat at her feet. “You seem to know a lot about soulmates, _Lady Brienne. _Tell me, how many hours did you pore over books and accounts, trying to know _exactly _how your soulmate would be bound to you? Luckily for him – he doesn’t exist.” 

Brienne froze. She _had _spent hours researching soulmates and the concept of the golden thread. When two halves met, they would be bound by a golden thread – well, an invisible connection – that would keep them together at all times. Until they were wed in a sept, their hands bound by ribbon, they would not be able to stray six feet from the other. The Kingslayer had been much further from his sister this past year. And that knowledge brought out the monster in him. 

Snarling, he reached for her belt and stole the second blade hanging by her hip. He cut the rope that bound them and moved backwards, gearing for a fight. Brienne responded by kicking him in the stomach, pushing him into the shallows of the river. A reckless mistake. The Kingslayer got to his feet and began to move to the other side until something dragged him underneath the water. He stood once more and tried to run but was unable. 

He looked at his waist; looking for rope. But there was nothing. He was a free man despite his shackles, and he could run into the forest and be well-shot of her. But he couldn’t. “What sorcery is this?” 

“It’s not sorcery,” Brienne said; disgust overwhelming her. “It’s _love.” _


	146. "First Impressions" - Jaime meets his soulmate for the first time. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "february 16th" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 16th: “Fluff” + “with soulmates”

Jaime Lannister was excited. He was finally to meet his soulmate. 

As the boat docked at the harbour in Tarth, Jaime’s stomach began to flutter. He knew little of his wife-to-be, other than she was the heir to the Stormlands island. His sister, who had initially been heartbroken when his soul mark had appeared one morning, had been kind enough to reach out for information on his other half. _Brienne the Beauty, _they called her. With fine blonde hair and eyes the colour of the ocean; she was small, delicate, and enjoyed a love of embroidery. 

She would make a perfect Lady of the Rock. And, somehow, she was the perfect wife for him. 

As he and his family disembarked _The Lionheart, _Jaime’s gaze stole across the pier for his beloved. He saw no one matching his sister’s description. Lord Tarth, his future good-father, stood tall but his mouth faltered as he addressed the formidable Tywin Lannister. “My Lord. I hope your journey was pleasant.” 

“Your daughter?”

“At Evenfall, my Lord. She–she was unavoidably detained.” 

Jaime ignored his sister’s smirk, and his father’s exasperation. Instead, he engaged his future good-father in conversation about the island as they took a carriage up to Evenfall Hall. It wasn’t as overbearing as Casterly Rock; perhaps it would feel more like home. The discovery of an annual tourney on Tarth only buoyed Jaime’s spirits.

“You should give word to the knights of the island that they might find a new competitor come then,” Jaime said, grinning. “I have yet to be bested in the joust, or the melee. It would do me a great honour to declare my dearest Brienne my Queen of Love and Beauty.” 

For some reason, that didn’t ease the frown on Lord Tarth’s features. “We’ll see, lad, we’ll see.”

As they pulled up to the grand entrance of Evenfall Hall, there was still no young maiden awaiting him. Jaime tried not to let his annoyance show, but his _dear _sister did not give him the same courtesy in regards to her laughter. While his father and Brienne’s stole away into a heated discussion, Jaime took off to have a moment to himself. What had detained his bride, his soulmate? He’d been waiting his whole life for her. Had she not waited for him? Perhaps she was one of those who had found another. Perhaps she was not excited at the prospect of meeting him at all. 

Shoulders sagging, Jaime headed for the training yard. Perhaps a few bouts with a squire or two would put his mind at ease. There was already someone training in the yard. As tall as Jaime; as broad, too. And they were quick, and powerful, and kept the master-at-arms on their toes. Jaime made to introduce himself as the future Lord Tarth when the blonde squire pulled back, knocking their elbow into Jaime’s chest. 

“Fuck!”

He tripped on a bundle of hay and fell backwards into a nearby water trough. Soaked to the bone, Jaime dragged his head out of the water and was greeted by the sight of a proffered hand. The blonde squire was a girl, with full lips and sapphire eyes. To describe her as plain would be a kindness; to describe her as strong as she pulled him upright would be an understatement. His stomach somersaulted as their eyes met and, for a moment, Jaime was filled with hope. 

“Please tell me you’re Lady Brienne.” 

A single nod was all it took for Jaime to pull her close and plant his lips on hers. When Jaime was once again pushed into the trough, he could only laugh. It seems the Gods knew him well after all. 


	147. "Dock" - The Lannisters and Tarths go on vacation together. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "September 5th :)" (resthefuture)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 5th: “childhood friends” + “with a lot of flirting”

“Jaime, are you coming inside?” 

He turned to his mother and shook his head. “Not yet. I think I’m going to swim for a bit longer.” 

Joanna Lannister offered her son a bright smile before heading back inside the lake house. His father was already inside with Uncle Selwyn, talking about business and fishing subsidies. His brother had his nose in a book; his sister painting her toenails and trying to listen in to their father’s business dealings. Aunt Elinor was preparing the steak ready for the barbecue. Everyone was heading inside for the evening. Everyone apart from him. 

And Brienne. 

Sliding off his flip flops, Jaime waded out into the lake and began swimming to the old dock in the middle where his oldest friend lay, soaking up the last of the day’s sun. He’d known Brienne all his life. Their fathers were business partners; their mothers friends. They had spent Warrior’s Day and Sevenmas and all manner of holidays together. And every year they spent a month at the lake on Tarth, swimming and hiking and having adventures. 

Only this year, something had changed. 

Jaime bobbed in the water as he took in his friend. Long, pale legs draped themselves over the wooden slats; a sapphire blue bikini showing off all manner of freckles. Cersei had scoffed at Brienne’s choice of swimwear, but Jaime had been the exact opposite. She was _glorious. _All long limbs and porcelain skin and suddenly Jaime felt his swim trunks grow tight. 

Brienne noticed his hesitancy and propped herself up on her elbows; staring at him through dark sunglasses. “Are you coming or what?” 

_Not yet. _“I like being in the water.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

She settled herself back against the wooden dock; chin lifting to the sky to reveal the thick cords of her throat. Jaime wet his mouth as he thought about licking the sweat from her skin; teeth pressing softly against her neck until she keened. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _That wasn’t helping. Jaime cycled through a series of off-putting images until he felt safe enough to pull himself onto the dock beside Brienne. He laid on his side, a hand between them; drinking her in. 

“What are you staring at?” Brienne spat, pulling her sunglasses down to meet his gaze. “Have I–oh, _fuck, _I haven’t missed a spot with the sun cream, have I?”

He shook his head, grinning at her. “No, you’re–you’re perfect.” 

Brienne scoffed and returned to bathing under the Stormlands sun. Jaime laid back, too, and wondered what he could do to make Brienne realise he desired her without sending her running for the hills. 


	148. "Arrangement" - Ser Jaime and his lady wife have a fake relationship. (Canon AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "June 17 for the date prompt :)" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 17th: ‘roommates’ + ‘with fake dating’

“My Lord, a raven has just arrived for you.” 

Ser Jaime Lannister took the scroll from Evenfall’s maester, holding back his sigh at the familiar lion seal. He hoped it was Tyrion writing from King’s Landing; telling him of political intrigue and amusing stories from the court. But, in his heart, Jaime knew it was from his father. Most likely, it was similar in nature to the letter sent the moon before, and the moon before that. 

Using the dagger Brienne had given him upon their wedding day, Jaime eased the seal away and scanned the parchment. It was as he had feared. A single line of black ink: _Is your wife yet with child? _

“Do you wish to reply, my Lord?” 

“Not at this time, thank you.” Jaime paused; contemplating his next move. The first letters after their wedding day had been easily ignored. The next batch, as he and Brienne moved into one year of matrimony, had been less so. Now, it was well after two, and it was time Jaime informed his dearest friend of the situation at hand. “Maester, do you perhaps know where my wife is?” 

Unlike his predecessor, who had seen fit to show his distaste for Brienne’s swordplay, this Maester had no qualms. Or, at least, was better at hiding it. “In the training yard, my Lord.” 

Jaime thanked the man and took off through the familiar corridors of Evenfall Hall; his home for the last two years. Claiming his good-father’s poor health, Jaime had secured his father’s agreement for him to remain here for the foreseeable future. Brienne could prepare herself to become the Evenstar, and together they travelled to tourneys both in Westeros and in the Free Cities as mystery knights. 

It was how they had met, after all. 

Approaching the yard, Jaime grinned at the familiar sound of steel-on-steel. Brienne was putting Jaime’s new squire through his paces; a young boy his father had sent to him. But Pod had taken a shine to Brienne instead, following her around like a stray pup. Although Jaime was one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros, it was at his friend’s feet that Podrick wished to learn. 

Jaime could not blame him. There were about three fighters across the kingdoms that might have a chance against him. She, as she had proved many times, was one of them. “Podrick, might I steal a moment with my wife?” 

The young boy nodded and took his leave. Brienne crossed the training yard to join him by the sunflowers. She noticed the scroll in his hand. “Your father?” 

He nodded. “I think our arrangement has come to an end.” 

It seemed like such a simple idea at the start. Brienne, tired of unworthy men being foisted upon her. Jaime, tired of simpering women being foisted upon him. Their courtship had been a ruse to attend tourneys together. Their marriage had been an attempt to keep their winning streak going. After all, they were close friends. The best of friends. But now two paths lay in front of them: tell their fathers the truth and face the consequences, or _finally _consummate their marriage. 


	149. "Are We There Yet?" - Jaime and Brienne go on a road trip with their children. (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "February 1st!" (anonymous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 1st: ‘fluff’ + ‘with characters as parents’.

“No, Catelyn, you _cannot _bring a sword on our trip.” 

Jaime’s ten-year-old huffed and dragged the broadsword that was no longer bigger than her back up the stairs of their Winterfell home. Thankfully, his other two children hadn’t deemed to bring weapons on their trip. Brynden, now eight, was trying to fit as many storybooks as he could into the backpack he could have in the car. Joanna was already in her car seat, babbling happily along as Brienne packed up the boot with their luggage. 

“Come on, you two; we were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago!”

Brynden finally zipped up his backpack (save for a space where Ser Roar’s head poked out of the top) and hustled past Jaime into the back seat. His older sister was another five minutes but eventually came rushing out of the front door. No broadsword this time, but the plastic dragon glass knife Brienne had bought her at The Wall gift shop was sticking out of her pocket. As long as she didn’t stab anyone, Jaime would be happy with a dagger. 

“I think that’s everything,” Brienne said as she closed the boot on their suitcases and camping gear. “Did you want to do a quick check inside?” 

While Brienne settled their eager children, Jaime made sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Then, he locked up their home and so began their first big trip. _Sure _they had visited family before: they made the journey to Tarth twice a year and Lannisport at least once. The Lannister-Tarth pride had visited all the tourist attractions in the North multiple times. But they had never gone away as a family like this – Winterfell to Tarth, stopping at every sight of historical value along the way. 

House locked, Jaime slipped into the passenger seat. Brienne stared at their three cubs in the rear-view mirror before she started the engine. Jaime sagged against the leather seat and smiled lazily at his wife. “You sure you’re okay to drive first?”

Brienne nodded. “Of course. Just need to program my destination.” 

She reached out for the sat-nav, but Jaime batted her hand away. “You don’t need _that. _I can navigate.” 

“Love, it’s the same thing as your phone.”

“I’m not going to use my phone, either,” Jaime explained, opening up the passenger compartment and retrieving the maps of Westeros he’d placed there. He’d spent a whole afternoon marking out their route, potential rest stops, places they could camp (and places where they could stay in a hotel instead). “It’s an old fashioned trip south. Like Goldenhand and the Blue Knight.” 

A smile lit up Brienne’s face. “Would you like me to handcuff you?” 

Jaime laughed and winked at his wife. “Maybe later.” 


	150. "Form" - New teacher Brienne crosses paths with Mister Lannister (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Braime Teacher AU?" [anonymous]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt, Anon! I am certainly getting a lot of inspiration in that department atm. I am open for prompts and excited to write!

Brienne met Jaime Lannister on her first day at North County High School. 

Bombarded by policies, lesson plans, and the thought of having to unpack a mountain of boxes when she returned home, Brienne had mistaken Mister Lannister’s room (307) for her own (306). She had strolled in, carrying empty exercise books and a replica of Oathkeeper for her desk, only to stop in front of the whiteboard. Scrawled in red marker pen was the question: ‘How far do you agree that the Kingslayer committed the worst act during Robert’s Rebellion?’

Brienne had snorted, said, “Not at all,” and placed the books down upon the nearest table so she could clean the whiteboard of the academic graffiti. 

“Hmm. _Interesting.” _

Her head had snapped in the direction of the voice; a pair of warm green eyes meeting her gaze. How she had missed the man sitting behind the desk in the corner, she’d had no idea. _Especially _as he was the type of man one would pick out in a crowd. The Warrior in a three-piece suit with a teacher planner and a scarlet apple placed neatly upon the corner of the desk – as if he was a model for a teacher fashion shoot rather than an actual educator. 

“I–I—”

Brienne had not had the chance to finish her sentence, as Catelyn Tully-Stark, head of North County’s history department, had passed by the door and directed her to the right room. As she was ushered down the hallway, Brienne was greeted to the first version of a sentence she would hear a great deal during her first week. “So. You’ve met Mister Lannister.” 

Everyone talked about Mister Lannister. The students loved him: the boys enjoyed his passion for history and love of swordplay; the girls crushed on his dark blonde curls and sharp jawline. The staff, however, were less enamoured. Mister Lannister turned the charm on for his class and his class alone. He ate in his classroom. He refused to cover lessons and would not share resources. Mister Lannister loathed every member of the department (apart from Catelyn), and was openly hostile to the rest of the staff. 

“How does he still have a job here?” Brienne had asked one afternoon while on duty with Dacey Mormont; both watching as Mister Lannister openly ridiculed Mister Thorne in front of the Year Elevens he’d just tried to punish. 

Dacey just shrugged. “Exam results. He gets the best scores in the school, and the kids love him.” She blew her whistle at Jojen Reed poking at something with a stick. “If I were you, I’d just keep my head down and avoid him the best you can. He dislikes everyone, but if he _really _dislikes you, you’ll never hear the end of it.” 

Brienne took Dacey’s words to heart. She turned to other colleagues for advice and guidance; she looked elsewhere for resources, even though it was common knowledge that Mister Lannister had the largest range of material from the Age of Dragons. Their eyes met, occasionally, in the staff briefings in-between Mister Lannister’s cutting remarks to their colleagues. Twice they had parked next to each other in the car park. But, in the first month of her tenure at North County High, Brienne had not said a word to Jaime Lannister since that first day. 

And then the fire alarm went off. 

“Okay, class, you know the procedure,” Brienne called out over her rowdy Year Eights; the prospect of a real fire and missing some of her lesson on King Tommen I quite appealing to thirty twelve-year-olds. “Leave your belongings, exit out the South stairwell, and find your assembly point on the field.” 

After every member of her class had filed out, Brienne joined them in making their way to their form groups. North County High was divided into houses based on the houses of old: as a Stormlands girl, she had hoped to be placed in Stag House, but Brienne’s form group was in Lion House. Double-checking the assembly point in the staff email, Brienne found her form group lining up beside Mister Lannister’s. He handed her a register wordlessly. 

“Quiet, please, L4,” Brienne called out over the noise. 

Her form were complaining about the temperature. It was too cold for children from the North in thick school jumpers. So Brienne had no chance. She’d followed her own advice and left behind her belongings, but now she was out in the middle of a frozen field with nothing but a thin blue blouse covering her torso. Her training year had been in the humid conditions of Storm’s End; she had yet to adjust to the temperatures of the North. 

That’s if she didn’t freeze in the middle of a fire drill first. 

“Quiet, L4, _thank you.” _Her reprimand was undermined by the chattering of her teeth. “I’ve asked you twice, now.” 

“Does Ms Tarth need to ask you for a third time?” Mister Lannister, his form in a silent line, came to her aid – and her side. His green eyes stared the children down and their chatter subsided. “I thought not.” 

Brienne thought Mister Lannister would head back to his own form class now that hers were silent. She did not expect him to place his hands firmly upon her hips, spinning her to face him. For a single moment, they were close enough for Brienne to see the cold breath from his open lips hover in the air. And then, in a single motion, Jaime Lannister pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He gave a single, satisfied nod, before addressing his own form group. 

“Lion House is a silent house. I shouldn’t be hearing _anyone _from Lion House talking.” 

Brienne’s form group, mouths slack at what they had just witnessed, didn’t say another thing. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Get lost and then get found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413806) by [BrightDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightDream/pseuds/BrightDream)


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